


Of Druids, Sorcerers and Oblivious Idiots

by Haleo



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Druids, Magic Revealed, OC, Oblivious Arthur, merlin is a dumbass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2020-03-26 07:16:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19000978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haleo/pseuds/Haleo
Summary: Following the druids' return to Camelot, a druid ambassador visiting King Arthur's court reveals the existence of Emrys, sparking a city-wide search for the elusive sorcerer. In between hiding from Camelot's knights, keeping Morgana and Agravaine in the dark, and protecting the ambassador, Merlin struggles to keep his identity a secret and stay one step ahead of his pursuers.





	1. Druids Need To Chill About Emrys

It had taken the druids almost a year and a half to trickle back into Camelot, uncertain of their welcome and suspicious of the King’s sudden acceptance. Only once the raids on their camps had stopped completely for over a year did they start to tentatively reach out to the King. He had calmly allayed their fears and repeatedly assured them that they would always have a place in his city. The townspeople were more hesitant to befriend the druids, only grudgingly trading with them and eyeing them suspiciously all the while. Vendors would quickly sell them their wares with guards nearby keeping a sharp eye on them. Eventually, however, the King’s acceptance of the druids spread and, all at once, it became normal to see druids wandering around the city. No one dared speak it out loud but in the privacy of their own homes and in the dark corners of the kingdom, people began to whisper about the coming of a new age; the city seemed to be holding its breath with each change the King made, as though waiting for something though no one could say what exactly they waited for.

Every time he saw the townspeople mingle with the druids, Merlin about burst with pride. This was what he’d been fighting for, and it was worth all the pain and loneliness to see people accept his kin so readily. In his heart, he began to feel that perhaps the future he so longed for was not as far off as he’d thought, for if the druids returned to Camelot then magic would surely follow.

Not long after, druids began to appear at court and approach the King. The first to do so was Aithne, a young dark-skinned woman with chestnut hair curled neatly on her head. She was brought before the King amidst whispers and disapproving glares as the last remnants of Uther’s court made their displeasure clear. Arthur stood up, interrupting their discontented mutterings.

“I, Arthur Pendragon, welcome you and all your kin to Camelot,” he began. “For too long, the druids have been hunted and persecuted, but no more. The citizens of Camelot extend our hands in friendship and hope that we can begin an era of peace and acceptance between our people.”

The druid bowed low. Twice. People murmured in confusion but eventually settled, concluding that it was probably some strange druid tradition. Merlin had a horrible feeling that it was not.

“I speak on behalf of my people, King Arthur Pendragon. We are grateful to you, and our Lord Emrys, for allowing us back into Camelot.”

Merlin tensed as a sharp gasp broke through the uncertain silence following her pronouncement. He turned to look towards Agravaine, who was staring at Aithne in shock.

“Forgive me, but I do not know of a lord named Emrys,” Arthur said after a short pause, trying to sound kingly rather than confused. “How could he have brought you back to Camelot?”

Aithne stared at Arthur disbelievingly, as though unable to imagine anyone not knowing of Emrys. After a moment, she replied, “I was not aware you did not know of Emrys' presence, Sire. Perhaps he fears what would happen should he reveal himself to you.”

“Who is he?” Arthur seemed a bit impatient now.

The druid woman cleared her throat, disconcerted. “Emrys is a figure of prophecy who has been foretold from the beginning of time. He is the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the Earth and his strength and wisdom are unparalleled,” Aithne seemed to be picking up steam, ignoring the horrified gasps that echoed through the throne room at the mention of the word _sorcerer_. Merlin dearly wished she’d shut up. “He is destined to bring about an age of peace between magical and secular peoples, and guide the Once and Future King who will unite the lands of Albion.”

 _Please change the subject, please change the subject, please change the subject_ , Merlin prayed. Was it too much to hope that Arthur would just drop it?

“... I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Apparently it was. “Do you mean to say that there is a sorcerer within my court?”

In any other circumstances, Merlin would have found the stupidly alarmed look on Arthur’s face comical. You know, if his life wasn’t currently in the hands of a seemingly obsessed druid.

“You need not fear, Sire. Lord Emrys serves you and is loyal to no one else,” Aithne swore. For some reason, Arthur didn’t seem all that reassured.

Trying to ignore his flushed face, Merlin glanced at Agravaine, only to find him staring intently at Aithne, barely able to conceal his excitement. Merlin had a feeling that, by the end of the day, Morgana would know of everything that had been said in this room.

“Why would any sorcerer serve me?” Arthur asked incredulously.

“Because you are the Once and Future King of Albion, of course.” This pronouncement was met with silence. Aithne continued, “My people are happy to serve you, as our lord Emrys does.”

“The use of magic is outlawed within Camelot,” Arthur said sharply. _No, really? We couldn’t tell_ , Merlin thought. “I cannot allow sorcery to run unchecked through my kingdom. Who is this sorcerer you speak of?”

Aithne stiffened. “I would not betray Emrys, Sire. No matter the cost,” she said, anger colouring her voice. Merlin just barely held in a sigh of relief at that. He hadn’t thought that a druid would willingly reveal his secret but he feared what Arthur might do should Aithne continue to deny him answers. What _Agravaine_ might encourage him to do.

Thankfully, Arthur seemed to notice the woman’s poorly concealed outrage and must have decided not to cause the druid ambassador further offense, for he quickly dropped the matter. “I understand. I thank you for coming on behalf of the druids and welcome you to stay in the castle. We shall hold a feast tonight to celebrate the peace between our peoples and the return of the druids to Camelot,” he announced to smooth Aithne’s ruffled feathers and assure her that she was still welcome in Camelot.

“Thank you for your generosity, Sire,” Aithne replied gratefully, relaxing now that she was no longer being asked to betray Emrys. She bowed twice, much to everyone’s continued bemusement and Merlin’s mortification, and left the hall to be escorted to her room.


	2. Sorcery! In Camelot? Ridiculous.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussions are had, everyone is an idiot, Merlin is tired, and a new character is introduced.

Merlin scowled as he watched Arthur, Agravaine and the Knights lounge about Gaius' workshop for a "Very Serious Meeting, _Mer_ lin", heedless of his precious portions and equipment. Percival had already dropped a beaker, Gwaine was carelessly fiddling with Gaius' _delicate_ experiments, and Agravaine's mere presence was enough to make Merlin's blood boil. Meanwhile, Gaius just stood there with a look on his face that said "I'm too old for this".

"I don't want to offend the druids when our newfound peace is still so fragile. They barely trust me as it is and I don't want to lose their faith," Arthur was saying, "but I can't simply ignore the fact that there is a _sorcerer_ living in my city. Maybe even in my castle."

He looked like he was about to continue but quailed under the force of Gaius' infamous Raised Eyebrow.

"Sire, I understand your concern, but surely you see that it is completely unnecessary?" Gaius said. At the uncomprehending looks everyone sent his way, he clarified, "Aithne said that Emrys is loyal to you. It sounds like this sorcerer has been living here for quite some time. If he is the most powerful sorcerer to ever exist, as the druids claim, and if he truly meant you ill, then he certainly could have acted against you long before now, and most likely succeeded."

Arthur and the Knights seemed to be absorbing this, seeing the logic of it.

 _Wait for it,_ Merlin thought.

Agravaine opened his mouth.

_Ah, there it is._

"Be that as it may, I must disagree with you, Gaius," the pest interjected. "He may not have attacked yet but who is to say that he never will? He is a _sorcerer_ ; they cannot be trusted." He turned to Arthur, and the look of concern on his face was so obviously faked that Merlin wanted to scream, or shake some sense into Arthur. Or both. "There are no _good sorcerers_. Have we not seen the corruption and evil that follow the use of sorcery and spread like a plague? If you ignore this, Arthur, what kind of message will that send to our enemies? They would perceive it as _weakness_." And then, the clinching argument: "Your father never would have allowed this."

Arthur tensed and nodded, his face set. Merlin's heart sank because he knew that Arthur's resolve had hardened; nothing would stop him from searching for Emrys now.

"You're right as always, Uncle. I cannot condone the use of magic," he announced in a hard tone. Merlin heard it all through the ringing in his ears. "We must find this sorcerer before he harms the people of Camelot, even if the druids do not like it."

"Of course, Arthur. Shall I order the guards to bring the druid woman in for questioning?" Agravaine inquired smugly. Merlin wanted nothing more than to rip that infuriating smirk off his face and was in the middle of imagining Agravaine bleeding out when Leon interrupted his thoughts.

"She is the druid ambassador," he pointed out. "Her people will not take kindly to her being treated like a common criminal."

The Greasy Bastard waved away Leon's protests. "The woman _is_ a criminal if she is protecting a sorcerer. We cannot afford to be lenient when it comes to the use of magic, Sir Leon."

"Arthur, please, the druids' faith in you is fragile still," Merlin entreated, looking toward Arthur pleadingly. "They have only just started to believe that you will keep your word and protect them. Hurting this woman, _interrogating_ her... it will undo all your peace efforts."

Arthur was silent for a moment, thinking (and wasn't that a strange word to associate with Arthur), then nodded in agreement. "For once, you may actually be right, Merlin."

Agravaine certainly didn't like _that_. "Arthur, you cannot tell me you mean to let this druid go unpunished? She is harbouring a sorcerer, and we need her to-"

"No, Uncle. We will find this _Emrys_ without questioning her. The druids will never trust me if I harm or disrespect their ambassador."

"But, Arthur-"

"My decision is final," Arthur stated. "Aithne is an honoured guest and is to be treated as such. Order the guards to begin searching for the sorcerer. We'll start with the castle."

"Of course, Sire." Agravaine swallowed his protests. He walked out of Gaius' chambers and Merlin had to admit that he hid his frustration well, for he seemed completely calm and unbothered.

After Arthur and the Knights left to assist with the search, being as loud and annoying as they always were, Merlin snuck out to find Agravaine. He figured the man would probably be eager to inform Morgana of the day's events. Weaving through the corridors, he made his way into the courtyard just in time to see Agravaine ride off outside the gates. He debated following him for a moment but decided that there wasn't much yet the traitor could tell Morgana about Emrys that she didn't already know. Huffing in annoyance, Merlin turned back into the castle. It didn't matter how much proof he had of Agravaine's betrayal because Arthur would never think ill of his uncle. Really, the smarmy bastard didn't even _try_ to hide his victorious smirks when anything went wrong, or his late night ventures into the forest to visit Morgana, yet Arthur continued to trust him above all others. How much of an oblivious idiot could one man be?

So maybe Merlin was a bit bitter about all of it. Just a bit. And it was completely justified. After all, who had spent years serving Arthur despite his ridiculousness? Who had saved the prat's life hundreds of times? Who put up with his angst and pining when it seemed like he could never be with Gwen? It certainly wasn't _Agravaine_. And yet, Arthur listened to him rather than Merlin.

Arthur was an idiot.

As he walked past the guest wing, a frightening thought made Merlin freeze in place, his face paling dramatically (which was saying something, considering how pasty he normally looked. A certain Clotpole mocked him endlessly for it). Fawn, a sweet-tempered servant who worked in the palace kitchens, saw Merlin and stopped next to him, looking around to see what had him looking so alarmed.

"Merlin? Is something the matter?" When she got no reply, Fawn continued, "Are you ill?"

Merlin shook himself and faked a smile in her direction. "No, no, I'm fine." She looked at him doubtfully. He was still dreadfully pale. "Really, I just... remembered something. I'm alright."

"Hmm..." She didn't seem convinced but decided not to push the matter just then. "Well, if you do need to talk about whatever it is, let me know. I just managed to sneak away some meatballs and cheese from the kitchens."

"Thanks, Fawn," Merlin said with a more convincing grin. Despite her apparent meekness, the servant was one of the few people in the palace who dared to make fun of the more obnoxious nobles with him, particularly Arthur. She, Gwen and Merlin often met up to gossip about the painfully embarrassing scandals and drama surrounding Camelot's aristocrats.

As the girl left, Merlin returned to his previous line of thought and he hurried to Aithne's chambers. If Arthur refused to question the druid about Emrys' identity, would Morgana have Agravaine kidnap her and do it herself? She had taken Gaius to torture the information out of him just a few weeks ago, after all. Merlin knew it would be too risky for Agravaine to kidnap the woman the same day she arrived, and right after he'd insisted on interrogating her, too, but he couldn't help but worry anyway. Morgana was not exactly sane these days so he could no longer predict her actions, and Agravaine would do anything she asked of him. It was a bit pathetic, really, that these two were currently Camelot's greatest enemies.

He reached Aithne's room and knocked quietly. After a few moments, a soft voice called for him to enter. Pushing the door open, he stepped into the room and had to pause for a moment, disoriented. Aithne had somehow already managed to decorate her new room, and it seemed her homesickness may have caused her to go a bit overboard. Merlin counted no less than six potted plants and one that seemed to be growing out of the wall somehow (he suspected the druid had used something Very Illegal to make that happen...), as well as countless little shells and bits of leaves that were arranged artfully on the shelves. He wouldn't be surprised if he found a hamster poking its head out the druid's dresser any second now.

A dramatic gasp interrupted Merlin's examination of the room. He turned away from the Suspicious Dresser to find Aithne falling to her knees and staring up at him, eyes wide with awe. Oh, God. This couldn't be really happening.

"Please, don't do that," Merlin said desperately, his face flaming. Hell, his entire _body_. "You don't need to bow to me; I'm just the King's manservant."

Aithne gasped again at that. "My lord, I would never presume to be so disrespectful! You're- Not even the King- I wouldn't- _Emrys_ -"

"Please, stand. I'm no better than Arthur, or any other man." Remembering what he had come for, Merlin added, "There is something I must speak with you about."

"Of course, Lord Emrys," Aithne replied as she reluctantly rose, "I would be honoured to help you."

Merlin winced. "Could you please call me Merlin while you are here?" At her horrified look, he explained, "It's just that the Knights are now searching for a sorcerer named Emrys. You must pretend not to know me, or I will be caught."

"The King would harm one who has served him so faithfully?"

"The King doesn't _know_ what I've done for him," Merlin sighed. "All he knows is that Emrys is a sorcerer, and therefore could not have saved his life so many times. Not without an ulterior motive."

The druid woman nodded her understanding. "I will not reveal you, Emr- Merlin."

"Thank you," Merlin said with relief, amused despite himself at how uncomfortable Aithne seemed about calling him _Merlin_. After a moment, he added, "I must leave soon, but there is something else I muse ask of you. Lord Agravaine, Arthur's uncle, is a traitor allied with Morgana." Aithne gasped, and Merlin had to suppress a grin. She really did that a lot. "Morgana wishes to find out who Emrys is and she will stop at nothing to get that information, so you must be cautious. Less than a month ago, she and Agravaine kidnapped Gaius to force him to reveal my secret and they will not hesitate to do the same to you."

"Do not fear for me, Merlin. These cowards will find me tougher prey than a helpless old man," Aithne replied stonily, her eyes like chips of ice. Merlin almost felt bad for Morgana and Agravaine. Almost.

"I know you can take care of yourself, but there's no harm in being careful. Don't go anywhere alone. And I'll do my best to keep an eye on you and Agravaine."

The woman bowed low, pretending not to hear the embarrassed noise Merlin made. "Thank you, my lord- Merlin," she corrected with a wry smile.

Merlin nodded back appreciatively, satisfied. Aithne was warned and, for now, the danger was minimal.

"I look forward to seeing you at the feast, Aithne." He bid the ambassador farewell, leaving the room as silently as he'd entered it, and he never noticed the slim figure slipping away quietly as he walked past.


	3. Why Do Sorcerers Come To Camelot?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer, less plot-heavy chapter this time (right up until the end...) about Merlin's friendships with Arthur and Fawn, because the platonic relationships are the best thing about this show tbh. Not sure if anyone can tell where the story's going but let me know what you think!

Sometimes, Merlin really felt like the court jester. Feasts meant Arthur took every chance to mock him, making the surrounding knights and nobles roar with laughter, and his own natural clumsiness didn't help. This feast was no different, except for one thing. The guest of honour was a druid. And she Did Not Appreciate Arthur's jokes at Merlin's expense.

"Is the food to your satisfaction, Ambassador?" Arthur asked, puzzled by her tense silence.

Aithne pasted a smile on her face. "Yes, my lord. This is better fare than I'm used to."

She looked over Arthur's shoulder at Merlin and met his pleading gaze.

_Please, at least pretend to be enjoying yourself_ , he thought at her. He hoped she would not blow up at one of Arthur's so-called 'jokes' and reveal him.

A hand on his elbow interrupted his musing, and he jumped, dropped his wine pitcher onto Arthur's back and slipped in said wine. For a few moments, he just lay there staring at the ceiling, anticipating yet more shouting and insults from the Clotpole, and wondered why he had ever come to Camelot.

"Merlin, you _idiot_!" Arthur yelled. Merlin exhaled and finally stood up. "Can you ever actually do anything without messing it up? My clothes are soaked!"

"So are mine, Sire!" Merlin replied cheerfully, then dodged the goblet thrown at him. Honestly, Arthur was like an overgrown toddler sometimes.

Arthur looked like he was gathering himself up for a good, long rant about Merlin's usefulness- or lack thereof- as a manservant, when Aithne gently said, "I'm certain he didn't mean to, Sire. He was just startled."

Merlin nodded innocently, hiding a smirk at the look on Arthur's face. The King definitely did not enjoy being scolded by the druid like a child. Although, Merlin reflected, he _was_ a child.

After a pause, Arthur settled on saying, "Clean this up, _Mer_ lin. And do try not to drop anything else, will you?" His expression promised unpleasant consequences for Merlin later on when they were alone. Merlin gulped and nodded weakly. He could already almost feel his bones aching from the knights' blows during practice. At least, they called it practice. Merlin thought it was more like a game of Who Can Cause Merlin The Most Pain Without Leaving Permanent Damage.

As he turned away to start mopping up the spilled wine, bemoaning his terrible fate all the while, Merlin remembered what had caused him to jump in the first place. Looking around, he saw Fawn standing sheepishly in the corner. He grinned and beckoned her over, trying not to laugh at how she was shooting wary glances the King's way as she walked over to him.

"I'm so sorry, Merlin!" she cried. "I was only trying to get your attention. The King is going to be even worse to you now."

Merlin laughed and waved away her concern. "Don't worry about it, Fawn. I've made him angrier in the past and managed to survive it. Though, you're definitely right about him being even more of a prat now." He leaned closer and widened his eyes dramatically. "He might even make me wash the knights' socks."

Fawn snorted. "You poor thing. I can think of no worse fate."

"I can, unfortunately," he moaned long-sufferingly. "Live with Arthur long enough and you'd be able to, as well."

"Enough chitchat, Merlin! Don't you have something you should be doing?" Arthur called from the table. "Your _job_ , perhaps?"

"Yes, of course, Sire. I'm doing my job right now," Merlin replied without looking. It always annoyed the prat when he did that, so he knew to dodge whatever Arthur threw at him without looking, too. He glanced down. Ah, a piece of cheese. Their king really was charming.

"Sorry, Fawn, but I really do need to get back to work," Merlin said apologetically. "My employer is an ass."

"Oh, of course, Merlin. Just," she paused, then seemed to gather up her nerve, "just find me later, alright? We need to talk. It's… it's important."

"Sure, yeah. As soon as I'm done with my chores for the night?"

Fawn nodded quickly with an apprehensive smile, then, after one more fleeting glance at Arthur, scurried away. Merlin watched her go with a frown. She'd been behaving oddly and seemed jumpy, almost… afraid. The girl wasn't easy to frighten, he knew. He'd seen her nod demurely at enraged, violent nobles, then mock them as soon as they gave her their backs, so it couldn't be anything of the kind. And all the odd looks she kept shooting Arthur… He'd thought at first that she may have been afraid that he would blame her for the spilled wine but it was obviously more than that. Were it any other noble, Merlin might have thought he'd hurt her in some way but this was _Arthur_. Merlin couldn't fathom why Fawn would be wary of him.

Picking up the cloth he'd used to mop the wine, Merlin made his way to Arthur's chambers and quickly laid out some clean clothes for when the King returned. Figuring he might as well finish up some of his chores to free up some time for meeting up with Fawn later, he lost himself in sweeping floors, fluffing up pillows and drawing baths until Arthur returned from the feast.

The King of Camelot opened the door and almost tripped over his own feet, freezing in shock. He couldn't believe his eyes. Something Very Strange was happening. Arthur pinched his arm.

"Oh, for God's sake, Arthur, it's not that strange!" Merlin huffed.

"Merlin, you're _doing your chores_. Just like that. Without prompting, and before I even returned from the feast. It is that strange," the Clotpole retorted. Rubbing his eyes one more time just to make sure he wasn't sleeping (and to annoy his idiot manservant), he peered at Merlin closely. "You're not ill, are you?"

"No, you prat." He knew it was only meant to be a joke, but Arthur's casual dismissal of Merlin and his abilities had always hurt more than he wanted to admit.

"Possessed? Enchanted?" Arthur paused, then asked suspiciously, "Are you even Merlin?"

"I wish I weren't," Merlin muttered. He did know Arthur was joking (mostly) but it still stung that he thought Merlin was lazy, or idle. He was a good, hardworking manservant, really, and he did all his chores as early as he could. The only problem was that wasn't actually early at all. Between having two jobs with two very demanding masters, spying on suspicious characters who visited Camelot (how else would he have always known about threats to the kingdom before anyone else?), running around saving Arthur's life, and practicing magic to get better at saving Arthur's life, Merlin barely had time to sleep, let alone polish Arthur's boots. He was basically a servant, physician, advisor, spy and occasional assassin, all in one skinny, goofy package. Not that he got the slightest bit of credit for any of that.

For once, Arthur actually seemed to notice his melancholy, and he wandered closer, biting his lip. After a moment, in which Merlin stared sadly at the mop in his hands, Arthur tentatively asked, "What is it this time?" When he got no reply other than a small shrug, he gathered his thoughts, trying not to seem concerned when he was, in fact, very concerned. "Come on, Merlin, I was only joking. I know you're trying your best. Of course, your best isn't much, but I admit you're not a _completely_ terrible servant." _There_ , Arthur thought in satisfaction. _That was comforting but not too girly, wasn't it? It will cheer Merlin right up._

It did not. In fact, it was probably the least comforting thing that had ever been said in the history of mankind, but knowing what a complete moron his friend was, Merlin understood what he meant and smiled. So, at least the sentiment had cheered him up a bit, even if Arthur was terrible with words and really needed to be more in touch with his emotions.

Seeing Merlin's smile, Arthur counted it a victory and mentally patted himself on the back. "That's better, Merlin. Why don't you have the rest of the night off?"

Merlin's head jerked up. It was his turn to pinch his arms, though it made Arthur roll his eyes. "What, really?"

" _Yes_ , Merlin. Go sleep," he ordered. Getting an unpleasant thought, he added, "That means _actually_ sleep. No going off to the tavern or I'll make you scrub the floor of the Great Hall with a toothbrush, understood?"

"Yes. Clotpole," Merlin muttered in reply. He cleared his throat. "Thanks, Arthur."

Arthur simply nodded and waved him away, congratulating himself. He really was a generous and wonderful master. Merlin didn't know how lucky he was.

Merlin slipped away eagerly and headed to the palace kitchens to find Fawn. And maybe those meatballs she'd mentioned, too. Rounding a corner, he halted in his tracks as he spied Aithne and Agravaine conversing at the end of the hallway. He quickly snuck into an alcove, grateful that neither of them had noticed him, and waited for them to pass by his hiding place to eavesdrop. After a few moments, their voices reached him.

"-for you, Lord Agravaine," Aithne was saying in a firm voice. "As I have already told King Arthur and the court, I cannot reveal Emrys' identity. No druid would."

"Surely not all druids know who is? That wouldn't be a very well-kept secret," was Agravaine's casual reply, and Merlin's heart dropped. If Aithne told him that they did all know, then there would be nothing stopping Morgana from capturing some nameless druid, who was less noticeable than the ambassador, and torturing the information out of them.

_Please, lie to him_ , Merlin thought. _Come on, Aithne, don't give the pig more information._

Thankfully, the druid seemed to have thought of the same thing Merlin did for she smoothly lied, "Of course not. Only few are trusted with such a secret. It is a great honour." _Oh, thank God._

"I see. Well, thank you for your time, Ambassador. I won't keep you any longer…" Their voices began to drift away as they turned onto another hallway, and Merlin finally pushed himself out of the dark alcove, following along behind them only long enough to make sure that Agravaine actually left and Aithne made it safely to her room, before continuing to make his way to the kitchens. He hadn't expected Agravaine to be so bold as to try to trick the information out of the ambassador herself so unsubtly. The man must have been under a truly great amount of pressure from Morgana to find her nemesis if he was getting desperate enough to outright ask Aithne for Emrys' identity. It was reassuring, at least, to know that Aithne would not betray him.

When he finally reached the palace kitchens, Merlin put the conversation out of his mind and looked around for a certain tiny red-headed servant. This was easier said than done, considering how crowded the kitchens always were. Finding someone as short as Fawn in the mess was nigh impossible, but Merlin persevered and eventually, he caught sight of her drying a pot at the left end of the room. Dodging some of the servants running around, and simply pushing the rest out of the way (it was _very_ crowded, alright? And he always pushed very gently), Merlin finally reached Fawn's workstation, panting for breath and fanning his face.

"Merlin!" the servant cried happily. "You're here! I'm almost done. Let me just put these last few pots away, then we can leave."

Merlin nodded placidly and occupied himself with swiping food off the cooks' dishes when they weren't looking, until Fawn poked at him and dragged him out of the kitchen. He shook his head as they left, disoriented. His ears always rang every time he'd leave the kitchens and enter the blissfully quiet hallway. Did they all have to be so _loud_?

"Come on, Merlin. Show me what you've got," Fawn said eagerly.

Merlin complied with a grin, pulling three loaves of bread, a few slices of ham and cheese, an apple and five grapes out of his pockets. His friend whooped and gave him a delighted hug. Once they reached the empty room they and Gwen had commandeered for times such as this, the two sat down to enjoy their feast.

"Was Arthur too harsh on you?" Fawn asked guiltily.

"No, no, he didn't do anything," Merlin assured her, chewing loudly to annoy her. She huffed and gave him a swift kick to the shins, which shut him up pretty quickly. "He actually felt bad about being an ass and gave me the night off."

The girl's eyes bugged out. "He- really?"

"Yeah, I was shocked too. But stop trying to deflect now, Fawn. What is it that you wanted to speak with me about?" She tensed and went silent. After a few moments, he gently prompted, "It seemed serious. Come on, you know you can tell me anything."

"Right… Well, it _is_ serious. It's… Oh, God." She took in a shaky breath, as Merlin patted her hand comfortingly. "So, so, tonight. When I saw you in the hallway, remember? I- I may have followed you to the druid's room." He froze, and she hurriedly said, "I just wanted to know if you were alright, I swear. But then I sort of, maybe eavesdropped a little. And I heard- you know."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Merlin denied. He felt as though his blood had frozen in his veins. _This can't be happening_ , he thought desperately. _Please, don't let this be happening_. His hopes that she hadn't heard anything incriminating, however, were all crushed at the words she said next.

"You're Emrys. _You're_ the one they're looking for."

Merlin's heart stuttered, and his vision went grey at the edges for a moment. He cleared his throat and let out a not-very-convincing laugh. "What- Emrys? Me? That's ridiculous, Fawn! I'm not some _sorcerer_ , I'm Merlin! What the hell has gotten into you-"

"Stop, Merlin," Fawn replied tiredly. "Just. Stop. And calm down, will you? Do you really think I'm going to turn you in or something?" That was exactly what Merlin had thought. "Wait, you actually- Merlin! Come on, what kind of friend do you think I am?" The girl seemed Very Offended.

"I don't understand," Merlin said weakly, his hands still shaking.

"Merlin, it's alright," she gentled her voice, "I swear I won't hurt you, or tell anyone. You're my friend, and I _know_ you. I know you're the kindest person I've met, sorcerer or not."

Merlin couldn't speak for a few moments. He had no idea what was going on anymore, but he thought the gist of it was that he wasn't going to die. So that was good. After a few deep breaths, he blinked rapidly, feeling his eyes burn, as his panicked mind finally registered what she'd said. This, this acceptance, was everything he'd always wanted from his friends. From _Arthur_.

"I- you really don't mind?" he whispered. "You don't think I'm a monster?"

"No, Merlin, of course not! I have nothing against sorcerers! That's is actually why I wanted to talk to you. I need to tell you…"

"There's more? What is it?"

"You're not the only sorcerer in Camelot," Fawn began slowly, her earlier nervousness returning. "I told you about what I heard because… well, I need your help."

Merlin stared at her in disbelief. She couldn't be a sorceress. He would've known. Right? "You have _magic_?"

"What- no!" she cried. "It's not me. It's my brother." When Merlin just continued to stare at her, she exhaled and said lowly, "It began last month. We had an argument and he got angry, then… four glasses shattered! And after that, it started happening all the time. Just yesterday he stopped a jug on the cupboard from falling onto my head, just by looking at it! And his eyes… they turned gold."

"Bradan has magic," Merlin murmured, still a bit out of it, which was understandable considering the number of shocks he'd had in the last half hour. This conversation had taken so many turns that he could barely keep up.

Apparently, Fawn didn't like that. "Well, obviously he has magic!" she almost yelled, frustrated with how slow her friend was being. "And you're the- I don't know- the magic king or something"- Merlin let out an embarrassed squeak. _The 'magic king'? Is that how people think of it?_ -"so you can help him. You know what they'll do to him if he doesn't learn to control this. It won't matter that he's only fifteen."

"He wouldn't be the only one in trouble," he warned, trying his best to forget what she'd just called him. "You'd be executed, too, for harbouring a sorcerer."

"I know, but it's not myself I'm worried about. Please, Merlin, you have to help him."

Merlin sat frozen with indecision. Fawn wanted him to hide her brother, to _teach_ him, and protect him from Arthur. He'd never had to do something like this before; even when Morgana had discovered her magic, he'd simply sent her off to the druids and washed his hands of the problem. _And look how that turned out_.

"You _will_ help us, won't you?" his friend asked plaintively, eyes wide and trusting. She didn't think he would refuse.

On one hand, he would be risking his own secret if he helped her brother and it wasn't just his life that would be in danger if that happened. Arthur, and all of Camelot, would fall without his protection. On the other hand, could he really turn his back on his friend that way in her time of need? And, more importantly, could he leave a fellow sorcerer- and a fifteen-year-old at that- to die when he could help save him?

Merlin had absolutely no idea what to do.

"I don't know."

"You- _what_?" the girl said incredulously, shooting up from the ground.

"Calm down! I didn't say I wouldn't help him," Merlin answered hurriedlyand stumbled to his feet as well. "I just need to think about it, alright? You know it's a huge risk!"

"You're _already_ at risk just by existing," she hissed back. "And I'm not asking you to hide him or take responsibility for his safety. I just want you to teach him to control his magic so that he doesn't get caught and _die_! You can just pretend you didn't know anything about his magic if something goes wrong." All of a sudden, the fight seemed to leave her and she looked so very tired. "Please, Merlin. I'm asking, as your friend, that you don't turn my little brother away. Please, don't let him die."

And, _oh_ , didn't that hurt. He wanted to help her so badly but something held him back; the same instinct that had stopped him from telling Morgana that he had magic.

"Look, I just… it's not that simple, Fawn. I might not be able to do anything, but- but even if I can't help you, I'll ask Aithne to!"

"You're actually serious," she whispered, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You really mean to let us do this alone."

"No! I'm only- "

Fawn cut him off. "Don't you worry your little head about us, Merlin. You just abandon your kind and worry about saving your own skin." Pushing past him, she stalked out of the room, carelessly stomping on the remains of their food, and slammed the door behind her.

Merlin sank to the ground, rubbing his face tiredly. This was really happening again. And this time, Fawn knew that he had magic so he couldn't push the responsibility off on someone else. This time, he had to make the decision himself, and he had absolutely no idea what to do.

* * *

Someone was speaking to him. Merlin blinked, disoriented, and shook his head, trying to focus on the concerned voice he could only just hear above the buzzing in his ears.

"-hear me, my boy?" the voice, which he now realised belonged to Gaius, asked.

"Gaius. I need to talk to you…" he mumbled, looking around. He was… just standing in the middle of Gaius' workshop, and he had an idea that he might have been standing there blankly for a while. After Fawn had left their secret room, he'd dazedly stumbled around picking up the food they'd left behind before wandering around the castle, lost in thought. It appeared he'd somehow ended up in the physician's quarters and frightened the life out of Gaius while he was preparing their supper.

"Merlin!" Gaius cried. "You had me worried! What on earth is the matter with you?"

Oh, right, he'd come here for a reason. He had decided he would ask Gaius what he should do about Fawn's brother, then proceed to completely ignore his advice, probably. But at least he could say he _asked_. And, if he was being honest with himself, he didn't want to bear the burden of knowing about Bradan's magic alone. He couldn't stand the thought that he was turning his back on his friend, and he desperately needed Gaius to tell him that he'd done the right thing.

"Fawn's brother is a sorcerer," he blurted out, and Gaius' eyebrow shot up. Even more than usual, that is. Figuring it would probably be best to explain before his mentor concluded that he had taught the boy magic, or something, he added, "She told me. Apparently, he was born with it, like me and Morgana."

"And what do you have to do with this, Merlin?" Gaius inquired, his eyebrow still raised in that way that made most grown men cower. Merlin, however, had long ago become immune to it. Mostly.

He said carefully, "He can't control his magic, yet, so Fawn asked me to teach him how to. I… told her I wasn't sure if I should, and she got angry. She thinks I'm betraying her." Merlin looked at Gaius pleadingly. "Is she right? Should I be helping them?"

The old man sighed and reached forward to pat him on the back comfortingly. "It's a difficult decision to make, my boy. Fawn has been your friend for years, and her brother certainly does not deserve to suffer. But you know I will always advise you not to do anything that will put you in even more danger, especially when it is not just your own life at stake."

"Yes," Merlin exhaled, "those were my thoughts exactly."

_There_ , he thought. _Gaius thinks I shouldn't do anything, either. I mean, look what happened when I tried to help Morgana!_ Nodding firmly to himself, he gave Gaius a wide, relieved smile and gestured to the supper laid out on the table. "That's settled, then. Shall we eat?"

Gaius studied him a moment longer, then voiced his assent, giving him one more fatherly pat.

Later, as he lay in bed trying to sleep, Merlin tried his hardest to put Fawn and her brother, Bradan, out of his mind. He couldn't remember much about the boy- although he'd met him a few times when he was visiting the siblings' home- because he and Fawn had made a strict pact to not interact with each other's friends and guests. The two of them had been living alone for the past three years, after the death of their ailing mother, and Fawn always complained about what a struggle it was to have to act as both a sister and mother to her fifteen-year-old brother. Between taking care of Bradan and working in the palace, the girl barely had any time for herself. But Merlin knew she loved her brother really, despite how often she moaned about him being a menace. He was all she had left. Merlin pushed that thought away, and he tossed and turned for what felt like hours before falling asleep. When he woke up the next morning, all he could remember of his dreams was the smell of burning flesh, and the sounds of a boy's screams.


	4. The Hunt Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooo, another update! Things are finally starting to happen in this one. Don't get too mad at Arthur and Merlin :)

_Clean the prat's armour, sharpen his sword, bring up hot water for his bath, collect his breakfast, deliver Gaius' medicines_ , Merlin chanted in his head. He had tried making his list of chores into a song to remember it better- 'armour' and 'water' sort of rhymed, didn't they?- but it proved to be harder than simply memorising it the ordinary way. He just hoped he didn't forget anything; Arthur tended to throw things, while Gaius gave him the Fatherly Look Of Disappointment.

Running through the corridors with Arthur's breakfast, as he always did, Merlin didn't see Gwen until he crashed into her, tray and all. Luckily, she was used to him rushing everywhere by now and managed to keep them both upright, saving most of the King's breakfast in the process.

"Gwen! I didn't see you there," Merlin said cheerfully. "Coming in to work late, are we?"

"Yes, well, it's because of those guards," she huffed as she helped her hopeless best friend pick up the cutlery he'd dropped.

Merlin paused, confused. "Guards? What guards?"

"The ones Arthur sent out to search for that sorcerer." Merlin froze, but Gwen continued, heedless of his discomfort. "They're searching the houses in the lower town for any evidence of sorcery. _Again_."

All of Merlin's earlier cheer disappeared abruptly. After all the drama that had occurred between him and Fawn, he'd somehow forgotten about Arthur's insistence on finding Emrys. What if there _were_ other people like him in Camelot who got caught because of this? After all, Bradan had turned out to be a sorcerer so it seemed Merlin wasn't as aware of everything going on in the city as he had thought.

"Did they find anything, yet?" he asked Gwen, trying to sound nonchalant rather than fearful.

"No, not yet. I hope they do soon, though. I'm starting to get tired of this happening so often. The guards somehow managed to break three pots!" Gwen said indignantly, then added more softly. "I don't blame Arthur, of course. I know he's just doing what he has to, especially after what that old sorcerer did to his father…"

Merlin let out a strangled sound and covered it with a cough, waving away Gwen's concern. "Yeah, they need to find the sorcerer as soon as possible," he forced out, and even managed to paste on a fairly convincing smile. "Well, I need to go give my least favourite king his breakfast. I'll see you later, Gwen!"

Used to his erratic ways, Gwen didn't think anything of his quick escape and simply called out a bright goodbye before continuing on her way. Merlin hurried to Arthur's room anxiously and barged in. Placing the breakfast tray on the table, he pulled the curtains open and dragged Arthur's blankets off, making the King let out a frankly embarrassing squeak.

"Merlin!" he growled, trying to smack his servant sleepily and steal his blankets back at once.

"Time to get up, Sire," Merlin said in a failed attempt at his usual cheer. Funnily enough, that managed to get Arthur out of bed a lot faster than Merlin's usual mix of annoying and cajoling. For once, it took only a minute or two rather than fifteen for Arthur to roll out of bed, and Merlin immediately started in on his chores, completely silent.

Eyeing him carefully, Arthur said, "Good to know you _are_ actually capable of shutting up, Merlin. Although, I wish you'd do it instead when we're out hunting, or on patrol." He waited for one of his servant's snarky, insolent replies, or even a smile, but Merlin appeared lost in thought. Merlin, thinking. Wonders never ceased. "Merlin. _Mer_ lin." Again, there was no reply. Well, then. "MERLIN!"

The man in question jumped and whirled around towards Arthur with a glare. "Do you _have_ to keep doing that?"

"I wouldn't if my idiot of a manservant would actually answer me. You know, you could be put in the stocks for ignoring your king!"

Merlin rolled his eyes at the familiar threat. Couldn't Arthur come up with something more creative, at least? "Yes, Sire. Did you need something, Sire?"

"You're acting strange today, Merlin. You're not babbling endlessly and you're even being respectful! You can't tell me you're still upset about last night?"

The lie was on the tip of Merlin's tongue when he closed his mouth again. He could simply tell Arthur that it was what happened the previous evening that still bothered him and deflect as he always did, or… or he could say the truth. For once, he actually wanted to, because it wasn't just his life on the line this time.

"No, it's not that," he began. "You're making the guards search the lower town for Emrys."

"Yes, Merlin, I knew that. I'm the one who gave the order," the King replied in that superior, irritating tone he had.

"What do you plan to do once you find him?"

"Invite him to a game of cards, obviously." At Merlin's surprised look, Arthur rolled his eyes. "Of course not, you buffoon. What do you _think_ I'm going to do? He's a sorcerer. You already know what the punishment for sorcery is."

"You mean to execute him," Merlin said hollowly, then a determined glint entered his eye. He would convince Arthur not to do this, not just for himself, but for Bradan and everyone else like them in Camelot. "Why? You heard what the druid said. This sorcerer is loyal to you, and he hasn't harmed anyone. Does he really deserve to die?"

"He's a _sorcerer_ , Merlin. You know as well as I how evil sorcery is, how it corrupts. He's a danger to the kingdom, not to mention that he's breaking the law. I cannot afford to let him go and allow Camelot's enemies to think us weak now."

"Don't you think doing the right thing is more important than maintaining your image?" Merlin snapped. He usually didn't have to tell Arthur that. Arthur was a good king and had always cared more about his people than his pride, but when it came to magic, he was blinded by hatred, and Agravaine's influence certainly didn't help. He acted like a completely different person these days.

"You still don't know how to speak to your king, Merlin," Arthur sighed, then continued, "And I _am_ doing the right thing. It would be foolish to assume that the sorcerer is harmless simply because I haven't yet seen him do anything. Morgana seemed harmless enough at first, didn't she?" Of course. It always came back to that. "She fooled us all for years before revealing her true nature. That's how sorcerers are, Merlin. They can't be trusted. _Ever_."

"You haven't met many sorcerers, Arthur. Just because of a few bad-"

"A _few_?" the king exclaimed incredulously, beginning to lose his temper. "Every sorcerer I have ever met has been evil. These monsters have killed _hundreds_ of innocents!"

"Only because you and your father killed hundreds of _them_ ," Merlin hissed testily. He only realised what he'd said when Arthur shot out of his chair.

"How dare you speak about my father that way!"

Merlin closed his eyes and said more calmly, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… But can't you see how wrong this is? Persecuting so many innocents-"

" _They killed my father!_ " Arthur shouted, and the echo of his voice seemed exceptionally loud in the silence that followed.

"Arthur…" Merlin tried to reach for his friend, but he moved away.

"Don't _ever_ ," he said tersely, heaving ragged breaths as he held an arm out towards Merlin, "say anything like that again or I swear to you, I will not be so lenient. I am your king, and you are my servant, so _know your place_."

Merlin swallowed. Arthur had never seriously told him anything like that before, not even at his most insolent. As he opened his mouth to speak, the king cut him off again.

"I would rather die than see my kingdom destroyed by magic. Sorcerers will never be allowed to walk the streets of Camelot, not while I am its king." He ignored the pained sound Merlin made and pointed to the door. "Now get out."

Merlin only stood there and stared at Arthur pleadingly a moment more before he turned around and fled the man's stifling presence.

* * *

The marketplace was almost silent, its usually lively noise reduced to a low murmur. A fearful atmosphere stole over the entire city, and the townspeople scurried around, quickly running their errands under the watchful eyes of the King's knights, before shutting themselves away at home. The King's search for the sorcerer Emrys had only begun two weeks ago, but already the knights had made several arrests, and there was a palpable air of mistrust hanging about the city that many remembered from the days of Uther's reign. Ever since the new king was crowned, there had been no investigations of the kind and no executions. King Arthur's mercy and compassion were well-known, and after he welcomed the druids back into Camelot, the people had begun to feel cautiously hopeful that the era of fear had ended. But now it seemed Uther's legacy lived on in his son.

Merlin rested his face against the cool glass of the window as he watched the guards in the lower town march their newest prisoners away. He felt that he should have been thankful that there were only three that day but he only felt ill. He'd had no idea how many people in Camelot still relied on magic, even if they weren't sorcerers themselves. Most of those that had been arrested in the past two weeks were just ordinary people, with no magical ability whatsoever, who had kept a few harmless magical trinkets to make their lives easier; the guards found charms for good luck and wealth, talismans to ward off danger, little bits of jewellery that brought good health… so many people had kept these leftover traces of magic from before the Purge, and had made the mistake of letting their guard down when Arthur became king. And now they would pay for that with their lives.

It was one of the bakers and his wife and son, this time. Their house was one of the places Merlin regularly delivered potions to for Gaius, and after so many years, they were good friends. And they weren't the only ones of those arrested that he cared about. Merlin let out a long breath, his throat tight with grief for what would happen to all of them, and watched his breath fog up the glass and block his view of the town. He'd lived with these people, knew their faces and their names, and now he would watch them get executed, all because he was too much of a coward to tell Arthur that he was Emrys. The last time he'd felt this way was when the druid camp he'd sent Morgana to had been sacked. He had done nothing then, too, had simply watched as the knights of Camelot descended upon the druids, as his kin were murdered and scores of innocents were cut down. And it had all been his fault, just as it was now.

All of a sudden, he saw Bradan's face vividly in his mind. Would he have to see him and Fawn captured and executed, too? That thought was too terrible to bear in his already desolate state, and he could not bring himself to watch any longer. He pulled back from the window, turning away from the sight of his fellow sorcerers being dragged down to the dungeons, and walked off without a backwards look. It was what he did best, he thought with a humourless smile.

Merlin was so desperate to escape the shadow of the castle he so loved and hated that he only noticed that he'd managed to make it to the gates of Camelot when a voice called out his name. He turned and saw Gwaine jogging to catch up with him, his face devoid of its usual cheer. It made Merlin's heart a bit lighter to know that at least his friend did not take pleasure in the arrests.

"Where are you going?" Gwaine asked as he reached Merlin. "Not such a good idea to be out alone in these times, Merlin."

"I'm just going on an errand for Gaius," Merlin replied with his usual smile. It scared him sometimes, how good he had gotten at lying. "Don't worry, I'll stay close to the city."

"Errand for Gaius, eh?" The knight was shrewder than he pretended to be, which Merlin supposed was just another thing they had in common. Gwaine had always been one of his favourite friends (and not just because of his more lax attitude towards magic), and sometimes Merlin wondered whether he ever actually believed his lies. He felt like Gwaine could see right through him; the man certainly saw more than he said. It made Merlin feel both terrified and elated, to be so known. "People are starting to panic," Gwaine said, apparently content to ignore his friend's lie. "They'll point fingers at their neighbours and friends and accuse them of using magic. You don't want to be seen doing anything suspicious they can use against you, Merlin, so stay with others at all times so you have someone to vouch for you, at least."

"I'll do that next time," said Merlin, hoping it would reassure the knight.

It did not. "This time, too. I'll come with you," he announced.

"Wha- Gwaine, there's really no need," Merlin protested, then paused and peered at Gwaine in confusion. "Don't you have a job you should be doing, anyway?"

"Not anymore, I don't," was the cheerful reply.

"You can't just leave!"

Gwaine didn't deign to answer and simply walked up to the knot of knights overlooking the search. A brief conversation followed, full of wild gesturing and angry hand-waving as his fellow knights tried to protest his self-imposed break from work, but Gwaine seemed to eventually win the argument for he headed back to Merlin with a triumphant grin.

The groaning servant just placed his head in his hands exasperatedly as his friend slung an arm about his shoulders and asked brightly, "So, where are we going?"

* * *

"You know," Gwaine said conversationally, beating low-hanging branches away with a stick as he plodded along behind Merlin in the gathering dusk, "you don't have to try to pretend that you're looking for herbs."

Merlin's head whipped around. "What?"

"I can see you panicking about it from back here. I never believed that's what we were coming out here to do." Gwaine paused to poke his stick at a particularly large insect on the forest floor, before continuing, "You wanted to break from everything going on back there. I did, too. So can we please both stop pretending that you had something to do for Gaius and actually enjoy this stroll?"

Merlin huffed and gave him a shove. "I don't see why you couldn't have said that from the beginning, you ass."

"I hadn't gotten bored of watching you squirm yet," the knight replied cheekily.

Merlin was about to make a no doubt scathing retort (he _was_ good at insulting people other than Arthur, no matter what Gwen and Fawn said) when he heard the sound of hoofbeats to their left. The two of them spun towards the direction of the disturbance, Gwaine's hand going immediately to his sword. A few moments later, they crept forward, the rider ahead of them nothing but a black blur in the distance, and followed the steadily receding sound of thudding hooves and crunching leaves until they could no longer hear them.

"Ah, well. It was probably nothing," Gwaine yawned with a shrug as they came to a halt.

Merlin, however, was still staring after the rider, his chest tight with inexplicable anxiety. "I don't think so…" he murmured.

"What do you mean?"

Gwaine didn't think it was anything important, but Merlin couldn't shake a sense of foreboding. He closed his eyes and murmured a spell, his vision moving toward the horse and rider. And the unconscious woman slung across the horse's back. Merlin's vision snapped back to his body, his mind clouded with horror, and he was already sprinting in the direction the rider had taken before he had the chance to get his bearings.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Gwaine yelped as he raced after him.

Merlin didn't answer and continued to run across the forest, ducking under branches and jumping over tree roots. His breath came out in heavy pants and brambles snagged on his clothes but he could hardly feel any of it. The image of Agraviane on that horse with Aithne's limp body tied in front of him played repeatedly in his mind and spurred him on when he started to flag.

Having given up on calling for Merlin, Gwaine eventually caught up with him and grabbed his arm, pulling him to an abrupt stop. Merlin tugged desperately as his mind conjured one horrifying scenario after another. Aithne being tortured, Aithne getting murdered, Aithne bleeding-

"Merlin!" Gwaine shook him gently and leaned closer, worry evident on his face. "What the hell is going on?"

"That rider- We have to catch up!" he yelled almost incoherently and continued trying to escape his friend's grasp until Gwaine shook him again, making him go limp. "Agravaine!" he gasped. "It's Agravaine, and he has Aithne. We have to save her or he'll take her to Morgana."

Obviously, that wasn't much of an explanation, and Gwaine seemed even more confused. "Why would Agravaine-"

"We don't have time for this. I'll explain later, alright?"

Gwaine nodded, and Merlin had never been more grateful to have a friend like him, who always trusted him implicitly and without question. "Right, then. We can't match his pace on foot, so we'll either have to go back to Camelot for horses-," Merlin shook his head emphatically, "or take it slow and catch up with him eventually, without running ourselves ragged." He raised his hand when Merlin tried to protest and added gently, "We'll be no use to the ambassador if we drop dead from exhaustion the minute we reach her and, assuming both Agravaine and Morgana will be there too, we'll need to be at our best."

Merlin didn't want to admit the man was right as all his instincts screamed at him to go after Agravaine, but he finally let out a slow breath and nodded. Morgana wouldn't want Aithne dead immediately so he had to think that the druid could hold her own for a little while. "Fine," he told Gwaine tightly. "We'll take it slow and steady until we reach them." He then turned around without waiting for a reply and continued to make his way after Agravaine and Aithne, and a moment later, he heard Gwaine begin to follow him.

As their footsteps rang loudly through the forest, Merlin's thoughts stopped flitting about his head chaotically and a quiet alertness filled him. Soon, they would reach Morgana's hut and try to get Aithne out, and he knew it was too much to hope they could do it without a fight. He couldn't use magic in front of anyone but Aithne and he had no plan whatsoever, but Merlin had faced worse challenges before and come out unscathed. He had managed to save himself and all his friends from every danger they'd faced, and this time would be no different. He would make sure of that.


	5. Finding Closure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million years later, I've finally posted this chapter because it's not getting any better no matter how many times I rewrite it lol. I've never written fighting scenes before so let me know what you think of that!

There was something chafing at her wrists, making them burn fiercely. That was the first thing Aithne noticed as she came to. Her head was spinning and she could barely keep her eyes open enough to see where she was. A few lonely candles flickered weakly, illuminating what looked like an abandoned dwelling. The little hut was dark and filthy, as if whoever lived there couldn’t be bothered to clean every now and then, and it had little other than the bare necessities. Every single surface seemed covered in dirt, except for the jars on the shelves. Those were startlingly clean and filled with… things. Creatures. Aithne had seen enough magic done in her life to guess the purpose of most of the jars’ contents, and none of it was the kind of magic that the peace-loving druids approved of. She swallowed and tried to shift, only then noticing that she had been placed on the floor and lashed to a sturdy wooden pole.

As she slowly felt her strength and focus return, she could make out a voice muttering behind her, accompanied by soft thumping. Subtly turning her head, she could just make out two black-robed figures out of the corner of her eye. One lounged casually on a rickety wooden chair that looked like it might collapse at any second, behind a table at which stood the other person Aithne had seen- a woman, she thought. She squinted, her neck stretched backwards perilously, until the man shifted restlessly in his seat. Aithne could not hold back a gasp as she caught sight of his face, and the thumping she’d heard came to an abrupt stop. What was Agravaine doing there? Agravaine… She felt as though there were something she was forgetting about him, something vital.

“Ah,” she heard someone say in a silky voice, “our guest is finally awake.”

The woman came into focus as she approached Aithne and crouched next to her. She looked like a corpse, the corpse of a woman who had once been beautiful; her long, dark hair was tangled and piled on her head haphazardly, her full lips pale and chapped, her captivating green eyes cold and empty. As Aithne stared at the frightening creature, she tilted her head with a pout and asked, “Oh, is my humble abode not impressive enough for you, Ambassador?”

Aithne had never met this woman before but she could guess exactly who she was and what she wanted. There was only one who would have the audacity to kidnap the druid ambassador from the heart of Camelot, one person that Agravaine served. “Morgana Pendragon,” she breathed softly. “I suppose you’ve brought me here to torture Emrys’ identity out of me.”

Morgana seemed delighted with her bluntness. “ _Very_ good,” she said in mock approval, “but we don’t have to resort to such unpleasantness, do we? Not if you simply tell me who Emrys is.”

“I will never betray him,” Aithne swore, and hoped she would be able to keep that promise. Her magic was powerful but it was no match for a high priestess’. She just had to pretend to be docile long enough for them to let their guards down and give her an opportunity.

“I hoped you’d say that,” the witch replied huskily, and Aithne had to fight the urge to shrink back at the madness glinting in her eyes as she continued, “Bring the potion, Agravaine. Let’s make sure our guest doesn’t get _too_ comfortable, hmm?”

The King’s traitorous uncle moved for the first time then, and she realized she’d completely forgotten he was still there. _Stupid_ , she admonished herself. _You will need to be far more observant if you want to get away._ She watched as Agravaine approached, carefully carrying the small wooden bowl Morgana had been using earlier, and held still as the witch placed her hand above it. A flash of gold eyes and a murmured spell later, the contents of the bowl fizzed and let out a hiss before calming again, and Morgana jerked her head at Aithne. Agravaine obediently held the druid’s head in place as his mistress turned to her with a cold smile and brought the bowl to her lips.

“Do you know what this will do to you, Ambassador?” she asked conversationally, then continued without waiting for an answer. “It will suppress your magic. You won’t be able to use any spells, to fight back; you’ll be completely _helpless_.” As Aithne started to struggle desperately against Agravaine, almost wild with terror, Morgana studied her dispassionately. “It sounds horrible, really. And this was all _your choice._ ” With that, she pinched the druid’s nose and forced her to swallow.

Aithne went limp and moaned pitifully as she felt her magic’s absence like a physical blow. Her throat constricted, her vision dimmed and she was sure her heart would burst, but she stayed conscious, unable to escape the torture.

“Oh, did I forget to mention this part?” she heard Morgana say smugly. “It’s going to hurt and it will make you feel as though you were dying, but it won’t let you fall unconscious or sleep. You’re going to stay awake and feel this for every second you continue to defy me. Eventually, if you keep taking it long enough, it will drive you mad. And I assure you,” she whispered, leaning close to Aithne’s petrified face, “you will be here a _very long time_.” 

 

* * *

 

The King of Camelot stared off blankly into space as the voice of one of his advisors echoed dully around the council room. He had no idea what the man was saying, what the topic of discussion even _was_ , and he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the no doubt incredibly boring debate. Not today.

When Arthur had woken up that morning, he’d lain in bed for quite a while in confusion, certain that something was off. It was a testament to how sleepy he was that it had taken him almost ten minutes to notice how bright, and _silent_ , the room was. Quickly scrambling out of bed, he’d pulled the curtains open only to see that the sun was already high and the castle was bustling with activity. He hadn’t thought much of it then, simply groaning at the thought of even more work being piled up because of his lateness, and set about preparing himself for the day and his insults for his _useless_ manservant.

But Merlin hadn’t been in his room or in the armoury, or the stables, or _anywhere_ within the castle. Arthur had huffed in annoyance as he remembered their squabble the previous evening and figured that his wayward servant would get over it and show up eventually, and he’d determinedly ignored the little voice niggling at the back of his head, telling him that it had been far more than a squabble. It had been only hours later, when he heard the toll of the noon bell, that Arthur acknowledged that they had really fought and that Merlin wouldn’t come to him. That he had to go to Merlin first. It was the least he could do, after all.

 _Know your place._ Arthur’s insides shriveled with shame every time he remembered what he’d said to Merlin. _Know your place_ , as if he deserved the man’s respect. As if he was _better_ than him. Merlin was his first friend, his _best_ friend, though he would rather die than admit it. His quiet bravery and unquestioning loyalty had always secretly astounded Arthur, and he often wondered if he was worthy of them. Merlin had followed him to the Isle of the Blessed, had drunk poison for him, had braved dragon fire with him… he may have been only a servant but he was just as brave as any of Arthur’s knights. Braver, even, considering he had no armour, was frankly terrible with weapons and was under no obligation to follow his king into danger. But he’d done it anyway, and Arthur repaid him by reminding him of his position.

It didn’t matter that Arthur had been angry, no, _furious_ , at what his friend had said about his father and sorcery. Merlin was entitled to his opinion and, after so many years of service, he had a right to be heard. Arthur had always told himself that he would be a fair king, that he would listen to his subjects’ complaints no matter what, but he’d failed in that respect the previous night. And, more importantly, he privately thought, he may have alienated his closest friend. But not for long, he assured himself. If Merlin didn’t come back of his own volition, then Arthur would find him and convince him to. He may even _apologise_ , if he had to, and he thought Merlin wouldn’t ignore that, not when he knew how proud his king was. As Arthur planned what he would say to his servant when he next saw him, he determinedly ignored the possibility that Merlin might not forgive his abominable behaviour. He’d lost his father and Morgana and too many knights to count, but he could not bear to lose Merlin, the one constant in his life that he knew he could always rely on.

Arthur was brought back to the present when his councilors began to shift and stand up from their seats. Apparently, the meeting had come to an end while the King was distracted thinking about his manservant. Arthur amused himself by imagining what the stuffy old nobles’ reactions would be if they knew.

“Sire?” He turned to see his uncle standing off to the side with a concerned frown. “Is everything alright?”

Arthur smiled, unbearably grateful to have the man by his side. “Of course, Uncle,” he assured him. “I just haven’t seen Merlin since last night, and I suspect the idiot’s probably gone and gotten himself in trouble.”

Agravaine froze, then raised his eyebrow and murmured, “Merlin’s gone? How curious.” A few moments passed, after which he noticed the confused look Arthur was shooting him and smiled benignly. “Don’t worry about him, Arthur. You know he does tend to disappear often, and you have bigger things to worry about than the whereabouts of one servant.”

“Of course, Uncle,” Arthur replied, though he hated Agravaine’s, and indeed most nobles’, attitude towards servants and privately thought that Merlin and Gwen were more important to him than all of those rich and powerful men put together. Gathering himself, Arthur walked to the knot of nobles still discussing the meeting’s outcome. He put on his most kingly expression and pretended to know what they were talking about, and none of the gathered councilors noticed as a shadow broke away from their group and slipped away into the courtyard, and out of Camelot.

 

* * *

 

Gwaine bit back a sigh for the fourth time that morning as he stared at Merlin’s straight back ahead of him. He had set out at an unforgiving pace hours ago and had yet to stop, with Gwaine following along behind him wearily. They’d only paused briefly to hide when Agravaine had passed them on his way back to Camelot, and the look on Merlin’s face as he stared at the man had frightened Gwaine a bit. The knight longed to call for them to stop for a break. He was exhausted, hungry, thirsty and needed to pee, yet he remained silent. Something about the look in Merlin’s eyes when he’d said that the druid ambassador had been taken stayed in Gwaine’s mind, and he knew that it would be pointless to try and stop Merlin now. It was strange; he hadn’t even noticed that the servant and druid had grown close enough for Merlin to be so concerned. But perhaps Gwaine was just imagining things. After all, he knew Merlin was the kindest, most sensitive soul he had ever met, so it was no surprise that he would go to all this trouble even for a stranger. It was that same kindness that had called to Gwaine from the very start, making him risk his life for some obnoxious royal, just because he was Merlin’s friend. And that hadn’t been the end of it. Merlin had barely needed to utter a word before Gwaine had readily followed him into the Perilous Lands- just as he followed him now. He had given up his previous life to become a knight because of Merlin, and the look of quiet pride in the servant’s eyes when he looked at him was worth more to Gwaine than he could say; it was enough to keep him in Camelot when he longed for the anonymity of the open road and the crowded city got too stifling.

So Gwaine stayed silent now and kept up with his closest friend as they marched to Morgana’s hideout. He was still a bit confused about Agravaine but if Merlin said the man was a traitor, then he believed him. It made him feel ashamed when he remembered how easily he’d let Agravaine go and believed his lies when Gaius was taken. In hindsight, he supposed it was actually quite obvious that he hadn’t been checking Gaius’ breathing. And the traitor must have already been there before; now that he knew Merlin’s suspicions, Gwaine realised that the bit of dirt his friend had shown him must have come from Agravaine, and he was slightly hurt that Merlin had never confided in him.

 _But he’s trusting me now_ , he thought to himself firmly. _And I won’t let him down._ They would bring the druid back to Camelot, Gwaine would show Merlin that he’d been right to trust him with this, and he would be able to brag about having saved a damsel in distress to everyone. Life was good. Lost in thought, it took him a moment to notice that Merlin had come to halt before him and turned to face him.

“We’re close,” he said seriously. “Morgana’s hut is just below us, beyond those trees. It’s carved into the rock so it won’t be easy to approach unseen. There’s only one room, though, so it should be simple enough to _find_ Aithne. Getting her out will be the problem.”

“Right… And how do you know all this?” Gwaine questioned him, eyebrows raised.

“Oh,” was all Merlin said for a moment. As Gwaine kept staring at him expectantly, he continued, “I’ve… been here before.”

The knight thought that that really wasn’t much of an explanation, and he said so, to which Merlin impatiently replied, “Following Agravaine. I was following Agravaine, and I saw him come here.”

Gwaine sensed that wasn’t the full truth, but that was how it always was with Merlin so he let it go. There were more important things to worry about, anyway. “Well, you’re the one who knows this place, so I’ll follow your lead,” he simply said. “What’s the plan?”

Merlin remained silent for a few long minutes, then looked at Gwaine hesitantly. “It’s not very complicated but it’s risky,” he began. “I won’t blame you if you refuse, or if you’d rather go back to Camelot.”

“Come on, Merlin,” Gwaine huffed exasperatedly. “Do you really think I’ll let you go alone? I don’t mind if your plan is dangerous; that’s what makes it fun.”

For the first time since they’d seen Agravaine get away last night, Merlin’s face softened in a smile. “Of course. I forgot who I was talking to.” Placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder, he said gratefully, “Thank you for coming with me, Gwaine, and for always being there for me. You’re a good friend.”

“Just good?” Gwaine asked in mock indignation, mentally patting himself on the back when his silliness got a laugh out of Merlin, then continued more seriously, “I’ll always be there for you. You’re the only friend I’ve got, remember? And you’d do the same for me.”

“I would,” Merlin answered, his eyes bright. He then cleared his throat and grew serious once more. “Come on. We’ll take a quick break to eat and drink, then we’ll put our plan into action.”

“You still haven’t told me what that is,” Gwaine reminded him.

“It’s simple!” For some reason, that didn’t reassure Gwaine. “We’ll wait for Morgana to step outside the hut, then sneak in and free Aithne.”

Gwaine stared at him blankly until he realized that nothing more was forthcoming. “So we’ll just hope she doesn’t come back too soon and kill all of us.”

“It only sounds bad because you said it like that,” Merlin muttered.

“…I’ll keep watch and draw her away from the hut if she returns. You just worry about getting the ambassador out without being seen.”

“Yes, that’s the hard part, isn’t it?” Gwaine thought his part was probably more difficult but decided not to comment. “If she does return and you keep her attention away from the hut for long enough, Aithne and I can get away, then the three of us can meet up back here.”

It was as good a plan as any, especially considering that Gwaine rarely ever had a plan at all in these kinds of situations. They quickly set their things down and had a short meal, taking the time to wash up and prepare for their task, before they cleared away all traces of their makeshift camp.

As the two of them silently approached the stairway leading to Morgana’s hovel, Gwaine took a deep breath and motioned for Merlin to stay put until Morgana left. Merlin just rolled his eyes in reply and settled down to wait. Gwaine watched him as he watched the door to Morgana’s hovel, a bit disconcerted. He’d never seen his friend like this; the usually distracted, jittery man was now unnaturally still and focused, and Gwaine felt simultaneously impressed by and terrified of the change that had come over him since the previous night.

Gwaine was drawn out of his thoughts when Merlin grabbed his arm, and he looked down to see the door creak open and his least favourite high priestess step out. Waiting until she had wandered far enough away for them to put their plan into action, he and Merlin crept forward cautiously until they made it to the hut, where Gwaine remained outside to keep watch while his friend got to rescue a damsel in distress.

He really hoped this didn’t kill him.

 

* * *

 

Aithne was so dizzy she could hardly see straight. The pain from Morgana’s vile potion hadn’t faded in the hours since she’d been forced to drink it. If anything, it was increasing. She wanted to claw her skin off and scream and beg, but she still wasn’t far enough gone to let go of her pride. Eventually, she would give in; she knew that, but she swore to herself that she wouldn’t give the witch the satisfaction of hearing her beg until she couldn’t bear it any longer.

She didn’t know how long it had been since she had woken up in this hellhole but thought it couldn’t be more than a day, even if it felt like years. She’d vaguely noticed Agravaine leave hours ago and desperately hoped that Emrys would notice that he’d been gone for so long. It hadn’t been long after his departure that Morgana had come to stand over Aithne with a cruel smirk on her face. Aithne had thought that there could be no worse pain than that she already felt but the high priestess had thoroughly disabused her of that notion. She quickly came to hate the sound of Morgana’s voice, murmuring spells so dark that she’d never even heard of them and laughing joyously as her victim twisted and whimpered before her.

What felt like hours later, Morgana seemed to tire of her games and, with one last contemptuous kick to Aithne’s abused body, she turned around and made her way to the door. “I will get what I want from you eventually,” she said carelessly over her shoulder as she stepped out, letting a burst of light into the dark room. Aithne fought not to flinch away, both from the brightness and Morgana’s words. “How long it takes and how much you have to suffer for it is entirely up to you.”

Finally, the witch disappeared and Aithne was alone. The silence was blissful and, despite the tremors that still wracked her frame because of the potion, she felt unbearably grateful that she did not have to listen to the sound of Morgana’s poisonous taunts or her own pitiful moans any longer. Of course, she knew it wasn’t over. This was only just the beginning, and she was certain the witch had more torments planned for her. Aithne rested her cheek against the cool floor, no longer concerned with its filthiness, and prayed for the strength to keep resisting. If she gave in to Morgana Pendragon, she would be betraying not only Emrys, but herself and her people as well. But no matter how much she believed in Emrys and the world he would build, Aithne knew she wouldn’t be able to withstand this for long. Her strength would fail her, of that she had no doubt; the only question was how long she would be able to deny Morgana. She lay there, trying to catch her breath, and felt her heart clench with pity for Camelot’s old physician, Gaius, as she remembered that it had been him in her place just a few weeks ago. And he had remained at Morgana’s mercy for far longer than she had, if the rumours were to be believed. Aithne had been impressed when she’d first heard that, but now that knew exactly what the high priestess could do, she marveled at the old man’s strength and loyalty. She just hoped she would be able to last as long as he did.

Her mind went blank with panic as she heard a commotion outside the hut- oh, _please_ , Morgana couldn’t be back so soon- but a few moments later, a man barged in. She screamed and shuffled backwards fearfully, until she saw his face.

“Emrys!” she breathed, then couldn’t hold back her tears. He had come for her. He had _found_ her.

Emrys gave her a strained smile and quickly yanked out a knife to cut through her bonds. “We don’t have much time,” he whispered as he pulled her to her feet and held her steady when she swayed dizzily. “Gwaine is keeping watch but we need to get out before Morgana comes back.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned back around and made for the door, Aithne stumbling along behind him. She still wasn’t sure what was going on; her exhausted mind couldn’t seem to comprehend this new turn of events, but she trusted Emrys to protect them and lead them home. Or to Camelot, anyway. It was still a better option than Morgana Pendragon’s house.

As they left the dimly lit room and stepped out into the glaringly bright valley, Aithne startled at the sight of a knight hurrying towards them until she remembered what Emrys had said. She wasn’t overly familiar with Camelot’s knights- most druids tended to avoid that group, new laws notwithstanding- but she thought she vaguely recognised this one. His _name_ was certainly familiar, often spoken within the city in tones of simultaneous fondness and exasperation. Now, however, none of his usual exuberance was present, and his face was drawn with tension.   

Sir Gwaine spared Aithne only a brief glance before addressing Emrys. “If you’re all done, we need to leave, now. I think I saw Agravaine.”

“He’s here? Again?” Emrys said sharply, pausing for a moment before he continued towards the dirt trail leading away from Morgana’s hut. “He must’ve come back to warn Morgana when he realised we were gone from Camelot.”

“Probably,” the knight replied grimly, “so we have to assume she’s going to give chase.”

“If they catch up, Aithne and I will deal with Morgana, and you take care of Agravaine,” ordered Emrys, all traces of subservience gone, and Aithne wondered what Sir Gwaine thought of _Merlin’s_ new attitude. At times like these, she thought all of Camelot must be blind not to see the power and authority rolling off Emrys in waves.

“Deal with Morgana? She’s-“ Sir Gwaine began in futile protest before being cut off.

“Gwaine, I promise I will answer all of your questions later but for now, I ask that you just trust me. I can handle her but I need you to make sure Agravaine doesn’t interfere. Alright?”

The knight agreed to the plan unhappily, and the three of them crept forward through the trees silently, or at least as silently as they could when one of them could barely keep herself upright. Aithne could feel the first stirrings of her magic being restored, a slow trickle of relief after hours of helplessness, but she was still appallingly weak. Of course, the return of _some_ of her magic alleviated the pain somewhat, or else she would not have been able to stand, let alone run, but her muscles still trembled with fatigue. It wasn’t long before they began to hear the sound of their pursuers closing in on them, and Aithne felt a rush of shame as she realised that it was her condition that made it impossible for them to outrun Morgana and Agravaine. Emrys seemed to have come to the same conclusion, for he brought them to a stop in a small clearing where they could see Morgana and Agravaine coming. Sir Gwaine readied his sword, though Aithne could not imagine that it would be of much use against a high priestess, and at a gesture from Emrys, he reluctantly separated from them and hid amongst the trees to await Agravaine.

Aithne closed her eyes and desperately tried to calm her racing heart. At that moment, it didn’t matter that she was with Emrys, the most powerful warlock to ever exist, or that he had foiled Morgana’s plans time and again. All Aithne could think of was the pain, the hours of torture and the all-consuming _fear_. They couldn’t possibly hope to defeat Morgana. This was _madness_. Her eyes flew open and she urgently turned to tell Emrys just that, only to see him go still a second before Morgana stepped out of the shadow of the trees.

The witch came forward slowly, letting out a laugh when Emrys pulled Aithne behind him. “Hello, Merlin,” she spat disdainfully. “I should’ve known. You could never stay out of my business, could you?” Emrys gave no reply. “Come now, Merlin. Don’t you have anything to say to your old friend? No last words before I kill you?”

“You stopped being my friend when you betrayed us, Morgana,” Emrys finally said lowly.

“ _I_ betrayed _you_?” she asked incredulously. “You poisoned me! You pretended to be my friend, to care for me, then you tried to kill me!”

“To defend myself. The Knights of Medhir were going to kill all of us; they almost killed me _twice_ ,” he hissed back. “Did you expect me to choose your life over my own and everyone else’s?”

“They weren’t there to kill you. _Uther_ was their target, and you chose _him_ over me.”

“Oh, Uther was their target, and the rest of us were just in the way. Well, that makes me feel a lot better about almost dying because my _friend_ couldn’t even be bothered to warn me about the danger or make sure the Knights only attacked the king!” Aithne glanced between the two of them as they glared hatefully at each other; she could sense that they’d both been waiting to say these things for a long time. Neither even seemed to notice that Aithne was still there, nor that Sir Gwaine had intercepted Agravaine and that the two were locked in a fierce battle. “Admit it, Morgana. You didn’t care what happened to any of us as long as you got your revenge on Uther.”

“No, you’re wrong,” Morgana said, true emotion appearing on her face for the first time since Aithne had met her. All of a sudden, she didn’t look like a monster, or even a powerful high priestess anymore; she just looked heartbroken and so very haunted.  “I cared about you, all of you. I would’ve done anything for you. _Especially_ you. You were the only one I told about my magic, the only one I trusted. But you turned your back on me” Her chest heaved as she spoke and her eyes went cold once more. “I’ve had enough of this. This is the last time you’re going to interfere with my plans, Merlin.”

She flung her hand out, and Emrys and Aithne flew backwards. Aithne slammed into a tree and crumpled to the ground, groaning and gasping for breath as her vision began to dim. Through the pain- even _more_ pain- she vaguely saw Emrys curled up nearby with his head in his hands and caught a glimpse of Sir Gwaine jerking towards the two of them fearfully, only to be struck down by Agravaine.

“ _Gwaine!_ ” Emrys gasped and attempted to crawl towards the knight, much to Morgana’s amusement. She waved her hand lazily and he was thrown back against the tree trunk, and this time, he did not get back up. It was just Aithne now. Both of her companions had fallen and she was alone again. _This is it_ , she thought despairingly. There would be no rescue, and there would be no way out of Morgana’s clutches this time.

Aithne watched through blurry eyes as Morgana strutted towards Emrys triumphantly and pulled out a knife from the folds of her dress to finish him off. The witch’s face was filled with such glee as she stared down at her old friend’s prone form and crouched down next to him. For a moment, as she brushed the hair back from his face, Aithne thought she saw a flicker of grief in her eyes but it was quickly replaced by that same disturbing madness and bitterness that seemed to define her now, and she pressed the blade to Emrys’ throat unwaveringly. Time seemed to slow; Aithne watched a drop of blood collect at the edge of the knife as Morgana’s face lit up with sick anticipation. It was wrong, it was all so _wrong_. Emrys couldn’t die like this. She couldn’t let him die. As she raised a trembling arm towards the high priestess and gathered up the last vestiges of her magic, she heard Agravaine shout a warning, but he was too late.

“ _Hleap on bæc!_ ” she shouted, and Morgana was flung away from Emrys with a scream. Aithne collapsed helplessly, her strength sapped by the spell, and could not help but breathe a sigh of relief when Morgana did not stir. Lord Agravaine, who had fallen to his knees by Morgana’s side and was gently shaking her, was much easier to deal with, although Aithne didn’t think she could do anything to him in her condition. No, she needed help, and quickly, before the traitor remembered that she was still there.

Aithne crawled to Emrys’ side and grabbed his arm, hissing at him to wake up. He merely twitched in response, and she lost her patience. Feeling slightly horrified at what she was doing- this was _Emrys_ \- she reached out a hand and slapped him. Hard. Emrys jerked awake and shot her a vaguely betrayed look as he clutched his reddened cheek, then seemed to recall that there were bigger things to worry about. For example: the enraged man who was now striding towards them with a sword in hand. Aithne gulped and scooted back towards Emrys, mostly afraid except for the small part of her mind that was too busy being utterly _disgusted_ at the fact that she was cowering from this pathetic piece of filth. Had she not just used up all her energy to strike down Morgana, the King’s uncle would have held no fear for her, but she had and now… Well, she could not expect Emrys to use his magic to defend them. Not after everything they had all been through to conceal his identity.

While she had been quietly panicking, Emrys had stumbled to a stand and bent to pick up Sir Gwaine’s sword, and he stood before Agravaine determinedly, which was… not comforting. Aithne felt guilty thinking something so disrespectful about Emrys, but she had seen him on the training field with the knights a few times and, although she definitely didn’t approve of the way they treated him, he _really was_ terrible with a sword. That bastard Agravaine seemed to agree with her- and wasn’t that a _revolting_ thought _-_ and laughed derisively at the sight of the frail servant facing off against him.

“What do you think you’re going to do with that, Merlin?” he asked with a sly grin.

“You don’t want to find out, Agravaine,” Emrys said darkly, sounding completely serious. Aithne hoped he wasn’t bluffing.

Agravaine simply laughed again and replied, “You never have known how to address your betters. I’m going to enjoy putting you in your place the way my _weak_ nephew never sees fit to do.” He didn’t wait for Emrys’ response before he rushed him, his sword a gleaming blur as it met Emrys’ with a clang. Agravaine may not have been as great a warrior as his nephew, but he was undoubtedly skilled, and he barely gave Emrys the time to recover from his rapid attacks, mocking and taunting him the whole time. For what must have been the hundredth time that day, Aithne wanted to cry because she knew that Emrys couldn’t hope to win like this. After everything, after being _tortured_ , after surviving a confrontation with a high priestess of the Old Religion, he would finally have to reveal his magic and risk his life because of _Agravaine._ Aithne groaned, half of her attention on the fight taking place above her and the other half on the persistent pain that still coursed through her body, and tried to lift herself off the forest floor to help Emrys but her trembling limbs failed her, and she could do nothing but watch.

For some reason, Emrys had yet to use his magic to end the fight, although he seemed to be holding his own well enough for now. It was strange; Aithne could have sworn that he wasn’t that quick, that he didn’t know how to use a sword, and yet he was slowly but surely forcing Agravaine backwards. The traitor had finally shut up, his focus now on staying alive, and the memory of the look of mingled astonishment and fear on his face was one that Aithne would cherish forever. Emrys no longer seemed weak, or clumsy; at that moment, he was all cold menace and fierce concentration. It was something that Aithne had come to associate with the times he used magic- there was no denying his power then- but this? She had never expected anything like this, and she felt a bit chagrined that even she had allowed herself to fall for the silly, harmless servant act. Agravaine was now struggling to fend Emrys off, his back pressed up against a tree and his face pouring with sweat. All of his arrogance and self-assurance were gone as his sword finally flew from his grasp and he stood with Emrys’ blade resting against his heaving chest.

“Merlin!” Agravaine said with a shaky laugh and raised his empty hands slowly. “Merlin, there’s no need to do anything rash now.” Emrys raised an unimpressed brow. Agravaine gulped at his silence and added, “I’m sure this is all a simple misunderstanding. You know I am loyal to Arthur!”

“Right,” Emrys snorted, “I can’t wait to see how you’ll try to convince me of that one. Is Morgana secretly working for Arthur, too?”

“No, she isn’t. Which is why the King has ordered me to spy on her. I am simply following Arthur’s orders, Merlin, so will you put the sword down now and help me retrieve the sorceress?”

“Retrieve her? Why not just kill her now? Go on,” Agravaine’s eyes widened and Emrys smiled coldly. “No? I didn’t think so.”

“She- Arthur would want us to bring her to Camelot to be publicly executed,” stammered Agravaine.

“I’m afraid I just don’t believe you.”

“ _You_ don’t need to believe me,” he hissed back wrathfully. “I am the King’s uncle, and you are nothing but a s _ervant_. You will lower your weapon now or-“

Emrys cut him off with a disdainful laugh. “You’re in no position to be making threats; your title and power mean nothing here, and as much as I love watching you squirm, I’ve grown tired of hearing your irritating voice.” He leaned in close and whispered, “I enjoyed putting you in your place, _Lord_ Agravaine.” Aithne gasped in time with Agravaine as Emrys raised his sword- the snake may have had a hand in her kidnapping and torture but, as a druid, she had been brought up to despise violence, no matter the cause- but he simply brought the hilt down on Agravaine’s head. She breathed a sigh of relief as the unconscious man’s body slid down the tree, and Emrys turned away from him with one last dismissive look, his gaze going immediately to Sir Gwaine’s body.

Aithne felt a rush of shame as she realised that she had completely forgotten about the knight and pulled her aching body over to him before Emrys could reach him. She hadn’t seen what Agravaine had done to him but she couldn’t see any blood on the surrounding grass, so that was good, wasn’t it? Healing really was not her strong suit. As Emrys fell to his knees beside them, she brushed Sir Gwaine’s long hair off his face impatiently and pressed her fingers to his neck. “He’s alive,” she declared as she felt his pulse, and Emrys’ shoulders slumped with relief. He lowered his face and pressed it to his friend’s chest for a few moments, his frame shaking slightly, before he lifted his head again and looked the other man over. His breath hitched suddenly, and Aithne followed his gaze to a wound in Sir Gwaine’s side.

“Right. We need to get back to Camelot,” he said calmly, after he hurriedly bound the wound, although Aithne could see the fear in his eyes.

“What about Agravaine?” she asked. They couldn’t just leave him there, could they?

“I can’t kill him, unfortunately,” Emrys told her with disgust, “He _is_ the King’s uncle, and Arthur would never let his death go without investigation. Unless…” He eyed Morgana speculatively, and it took Aithne a moment to understand what he was suggesting. Before she could protest, or possibly just let out another horrified gasp, he waved the idea away. “No, you’re right. It would be cold-blooded murder, I suppose, and Arthur would probably do something foolish, anyway, if he thought that Morgana had killed his precious uncle.”

Aithne was a bit concerned about his nonchalant attitude towards killing a person, but she pulled her attention back to Sir Gwaine. She could worry about Emrys’ mental health later. “We brought no horses. Will we have to carry the knight?” She hoped not. He had saved her and she was grateful, of course, but she did not think her body could take any more abuse that day.

“No, Aithne,” Emrys reassured her, “Agravaine must have come on a horse. I’ll find it. You wait here with Gwaine.”

Aithne nodded. She had no strength left to keep going, anyway. As Emrys set out to retrieve Agravaine’s horse, she slumped back against a tree, then spied a water pouch at the unconscious knight’s waist and desperately grabbed it, downing every last drop. Oh, that felt amazing. She hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since the previous evening, and it didn’t help that she had just spent almost two hours running around the forest in the heat. Water had never tasted so sweet.

She rested her head against the tree trunk and finally allowed herself to rest for the first time since Agravaine had taken her to Morgana. Soon, Emrys would return with a horse, and she and the injured knight would ride together back to Camelot. They would reach the city safely, and Sir Gwaine would be treated. Later, she was sure, they would have to deal with Agravaine and Morgana and everyone else that wanted Emrys and King Arthur dead but for now, Aithne was finally free, and that was the only thing that mattered.


	6. Turning Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, I'm no longer capable of writing short chapters. In this one, Merlin finally Realises Some Things, Gwaine is awesome as always, Agravaine schemes, and Aithne just wants to get some sleep.   
> Leave a comment and let me know what you think!

_I would’ve done anything for you._

Agravaine sighed as he stared down at the book that he’d been trying- and failing- to read for the past two hours, and he shook his head to dislodge the thoughts tumbling through his exhausted mind. He looked over at Morgana, still unconscious on her small bed, and replayed her words again and again in his head until he felt too anxious and jittery to remain sitting. So he paced. And paced. It didn’t help.

He had awoken a little over two hours ago, terrified and freezing on the forest floor, and quickly brought Morgana back to the hut to care for her. At least the rage he’d felt at seeing her unconscious and abandoned on the forest floor had warmed him up a bit, until he could start a proper fire with the last of her supply of firewood. It was foolish to stay here so long, he knew. His _dear_ nephew would undoubtedly be looking for him now; the boy could hardly survive a day on his own, and Agravaine again wondered why exactly people thought he was such a great king. He was weak-willed, reckless and laughably easy to manipulate- which was why Agravaine wasn’t particularly worried at the moment. Not returning to Camelot was not a wise decision but he loathed to leave his lady on her own when she was vulnerable, and he was reasonably confident that Arthur would believe whatever excuse he gave him for his absence. Even if certain other parties tried to convince the king of his treachery.

Agravaine’s disturbed gaze returned to Morgana at the thought of the boy. _Merlin._ He had never given him much thought before; he was just a servant, albeit one that Arthur inexplicably seemed to tolerate, and even _like._ Really, the only noticeable things about Merlin were his insolence, his general incompetence, and Arthur strange attachment to him, which Agravaine had vaguely thought might eventually be useful. That had been the extent of his interest in Merlin, as he had bigger things to worry about than disrespectful serving boys, but now… Many things had been revealed in the forest that day. It seemed that Morgana and _Merlin_ had a history that he had not been aware of and a far more complicated relationship than he’d thought.

It was… a lot to take in. Morgana had apparently considered Merlin a close enough friend to tell him about her magic. Agravaine wasn’t sure she trusted even _him_ that much- although on a good day, he was usually able to convince himself that she did- and the realisation that a servant had once been deemed worthy of her trust when he himself had not did not sit well with him. The fact that Merlin had then dared to _poison_ her made it that much worse. Agravaine’s heart ached at the thought of Morgana being betrayed so viciously, and he couldn’t stop thinking of the look on her face as she’d confronted Merlin in the forest earlier. She’d looked so hurt, heartbroken and… _human_. For once, her face had shone with true emotion; it was the most impassioned display he’d ever seen from her, and the thought that it was the boy who could affect her in that way made an ugly feeling rise in his chest. He had never noticed before, but now he could recall that their every interaction was fraught with some unnamable emotion, and not even Arthur Pendragon could rile Morgana up as easily as Merlin did.

Agravaine’s knew his feelings for Morgana were obvious to perhaps everyone but idiots like Arthur. There was nothing he would not do for her, although he did not fool himself into thinking that she felt the same way. No, she was always blunt, and she made it exceedingly clear that he would remain by her side only as long as he remained useful to her. It didn’t make him happy, exactly, but- he accepted it, and he refused to abandon her as so many others had. As that damnable servant had. The servant with whom she had some sort of… tension. Agravaine couldn’t begin to understand why she had ever thought that _Merlin_ was worthy of her time and consideration, but that didn’t matter now. In fact, that just made his actions more reprehensible. Morgana had trusted him and he had betrayed- _poisoned_ \- her. And that was something Agravaine could not forgive. It made his blood boil that a mere servant had once had Morgana’s regard then betrayed her, that he had been so disrespectful to him, a _noble_ , that he’d attacked and _humiliated_ him-

The boy had always been a nuisance but he had made the mistake of bringing himself to Agravaine’s attention now. And Agravaine would make sure he regretted it.

 

* * *

 

Aithne stared blankly at the generous spread of food that the King had sent to her rooms while she’d been sleeping. It was nothing like the simple fare she was used to having in the druid camp but she couldn’t bring herself to take a single bite. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep, even though she’d forgone changing out of her stained and rumpled clothes and fallen straight into bed the minute the physician had allowed her to leave. The events of the past two days were finally catching up to her and being in Camelot, so far away from her family, wasn’t helping. She had felt so honoured to be chosen to represent her people and meet Emrys, she thought bitterly, but now she missed her home so fiercely that she was starting to consider packing up her things and leaving while the King was distracted with his knight and servant.

She might have sat there, slumped in the too soft chair for hours, had she not been roused by a polite knock at the door to her chambers. A few moments passed before she could dredge up enough energy to get up and answer it, only to find Emrys on the other side of the door, as though her earlier thoughts had summoned him. Aithne winced as she took in the pallor of his skin and the bags under his eyes; he looked awful, and she could definitely sympathise.

“Emrys,” she croaked, then cleared her throat and started again, “Do you need me for something?”

“No, I just wanted to check up on you,” he said softly. “You look a bit better. Are you well, Aithne?”

Was she? She didn’t know how to answer that; she was certainly better off than she was a few hours ago, in Morgana’s tender care, but was she _well_? Aithne just stepped back and let Emrys into the room in lieu of a response, which she supposed was enough of an answer anyway. The two of them walked back to the small table with its cooling food and sat in silence for a while. Aithne figured that Emrys was trying to give her time to collect her thoughts and felt grateful that he was suppressing his rather talkative nature for now.

“That was some fight,” she remarked after a while, partly to put off discussing her feelings and partly because she was actually curious, “with Agravaine. I mean no disrespect, of course, but I never thought you were such a talented swordsman.”

He graciously accepted the change in subject with a wry smile and a shrug. “I’ve learned that it’s always best to let people underestimate you; I might not have won that fight if Agravaine had been more prepared. Besides,” he added, a mischievous grin appearing on his thin face, “my apparent lack of skill is an endless source of frustration to Arthur.”

That startled a laugh out of her, and for a few minutes the two of them sat in companionable silence and nibbled at the food before them, but finally, Aithne managed to find her voice and said quietly, “I- I’m alright. Really. It’s such a relief to be back here, and to be safe and-…“ She gasped, then picked up the cup of water with trembling fingers and tried to continue, to quell the ache in her chest, but she couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat. She had tried so hard to be strong, to go on as though nothing had happened, but she had been knocked out in her supposedly safe room in the castle, kidnapped, drugged and tortured in the space of a few hours. Aithne didn’t think she could ever forget feeling so trapped and helpless, and just then, with Emrys’ comforting presence near her, she found herself struggling to hold back the tears she’d been fighting ever since they’d returned to the citadel.

Emrys leaned forward in alarm as he watched her silent meltdown. “Aithne, what is it? Are you still in pain?”

The young woman waved off his concern and wiped at her eyes. “No, I’m fine. It’s just… everything that’s happened is- I’m just- just being silly.”

“Don’t say that,” Emrys said fiercely, getting out of his seat and crouching next to her. “You’ve gone through a terrible ordeal, Aithne, and you’ve been so brave. There is no shame in crying after all that’s happened to you.” Aithne’s lips trembled at his words, and he placed a gentle hand on her face. “It’s alright. You’re safe now. You’re safe, Aithne.”

The last of her resolve broke as he continued to murmur comfortingly, and she collapsed forward into Emrys’ arms and cried until she had no tears left in her.

 

* * *

 

The most powerful warlock and exhausted servant in all of Albion rubbed his eyes tiredly and tried not to fall asleep. He couldn’t allow himself to do so, for two reasons: first, he had to keep an eye on poor Gwaine, who was still unconscious hours after they brought him back to Camelot and its long-suffering physician, and second, there was a very awkward conversation with Arthur awaiting him. Arthur, who had been silently sitting next to Gaius’ worktable behind Merlin for the past hour. He hadn’t said a word since his arrival- which was so very unlike him that it made Merlin nervous- not even to complain about how uncomfortable his chair was. Merlin had given him one of the ‘guest chairs’, which Gaius had once confided in him were purposefully uncomfortable to drive away unwanted guests (read: Lord Nuallan, who dropped by their quarters almost every week with a new- and almost certainly made up- problem to whine about), but of course, the one time Merlin actually wanted Arthur to be his normal prattish self, he decided to act like a decent person. Although, that probably wouldn’t last very long.

Merlin had no idea what to tell Arthur about the past two days; he wasn’t stupid enough to think that his friendship with Arthur would mean anything if he tried to accuse Agravaine of treachery, not after what had happened last time he tried. It still stung that Arthur had disbelieved him so easily, and even _threatened_ him, but he tried not to think about that. Really, when it came to Arthur, there were many things he preferred not to think about. He sighed and, deciding that there was no point wallowing in self-pity and putting this conversation off any longer, he looked up at Arthur and cleared his throat. “So, I suspect there’s a long list of chores waiting for me,” he began, his very fake smile fading slightly when the joke fell flat and Arthur failed to react. He really wished Gaius were still there to diffuse the tension but he’d left to check up on a patient in the town once he had ascertained that Gwaine was in a stable condition, so Merlin was on his own. On the bright side, at least Arthur wouldn’t be told that he’d been in the tavern this time.

A few moments later, Arthur finally shifted toward Merlin. “When will Sir Gwaine be able to resume his duties?” he inquired calmly. _Calmly_. Merlin felt as though he’d been transported to some bizarre alternate universe; one where Arthur Pendragon sat quietly in the corner while he worked and asked for things politely. It was unnatural.

“He needs to spend at least two weeks without strenuous activity to recover,” Merlin replied carefully and received only a thoughtful hum in response before silence reigned once more. That is, until he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Aren’t you going to ask what happened?” he blurted, almost angry with his friend for being so calm, which didn’t make much sense.

“What happened?” Arthur sighed with the air of someone who already knew the answer to his question.

“We ran into your sister,” began Merlin, although he didn’t get much further as Arthur’s head shot up in alarm.

“Morgana? You saw Morgana?”

“Yes, obviously Morgana; how many other sisters do you have?” he said irritably. “She kidnapped Aithne-“

“The druid ambassador?” Arthur interrupted yet again and ignored the scowl Merlin shot him. “Why would she try to hurt a druid? They’ve always welcomed her kind with open arms.”

“I suppose that must be why she’s so furious now that they’ve chosen to make peace with you,” Merlin lied smoothly, reminding himself to tell Aithne to stick to the story he was making up later. “In her eyes, they’ve turned their backs on their own people; I just don’t know if she kidnapped Aithne out of anger or if she had some plan to intimidate the druids into allying themselves with her.”

“How did she even manage to kidnap the ambassador from the heart of Camelot?”

“There was a man with her,” replied Merlin tiredly. Oh, how he wished he could tell Arthur about Agravaine’s treachery. “That’s how Gwaine and I found out about the kidnapping- we saw him carry Aithne away from Camelot while we were in the forest and followed him to Morgana. Gwaine fought him then and, well, you can see the result of that. Although, at least the other man didn’t look any better once Gwaine was done with him.” Ha.

Arthur leaned forward and gestured towards Merlin. “But you’re unhurt. How did you get away from her?”

Merlin had thought up a lie to answer that; it wasn’t a very _believable_ lie but he was confident in his ability to convince Arthur of pretty much anything as long as it made him look like an incompetent idiot. “Oh, that was all Aithne’s doing. Morgana was about to kill me but she underestimated Aithne, who ended up saving my life,” he admitted cheerfully. At Arthur’s enquiring look, he clarified, “She knocked Morgana out with a rock when her back was turned.”

The disbelieving look on his friend’s face almost made Merlin question his decision to use that particular cover story until he remembered the first time he’d been disguised as Dragoon; he hadn’t even needed to explain why he was, coincidentally, in that corridor. Really, it was a good thing Arthur had such a paranoid servant because he was far too gullible. He chose that moment to prove Merlin right by accepting his story unquestioningly. “You had to get saved by a woman,” the prat snorted, his somberness disappearing as he fell back into his usual habit of insulting Merlin, “a woman who’d just been _kidnapped_. Why am I even surprised? You’re completely useless in a fight.” 

“Yes, and you’ve always been _so_ helpful every time we’ve fought a high priestess,” Merlin drawled.

Predictably, Arthur chose to ignore the criticism and changed the subject. “How is the ambassador doing now?”

“She’s fine- physically, at least,” Merlin sighed. He couldn’t help but feel guilty about what Aithne had gone through; he should have been more vigilant. “Knowing how sadistic Morgana is, I can imagine the kinds of things she did to Aithne.”

Judging by the look on his face, Arthur could too. “We owe her our thanks for saving the three of you… and I owe her an apology. She should have been safe here, and from now on, I will have someone guarding her rooms at all time to ensure nothing like this happens again.”

Well, that was a relief. Not that Merlin had much faith in the effectiveness of the palace guards after so many years both sneaking past them himself and watching others do so, but their presence might deter Agravaine. He wasn’t a very brave soul, after all.

“There’s one more thing we need to discuss.” Merlin’s head shot up at Arthur’s words and the serious tone he used.

“There is?” he squeaked, his mind racing through all the possibilities. Had Arthur found out something about Emrys? Or had he finally visited the tavern and discovered that his wayward servant never actually went there? There was an endless list of things that Merlin kept from the king and really had no explanations for.

“Yes, it’s about the reason you left Camelot in the first place,” Arthur admitted uncomfortably, and Merlin just blinked at him in confusion. “I suspect it would’ve taken much longer for you to return had the druid ambassador not been kidnapped.”

“It… would have?” Merlin was aware that he sounded a bit idiotic but his friend was making even less sense than usual.

“Because of the… argument we had that morning.” Ah. That was also something he definitely did not want to talk about. “I know you were upset, and I understand, although I’ll be having words with Sir Gwaine about helping you run off into the forest-“ _What?_

“Run off?” Merlin asked incredulously. “I was just taking a walk to clear my mind, and Gwaine came along to ensure my safety, you prat! Because _he’s_ a good friend.” Oh. He hadn’t meant to say that last part. Usually, he suppressed all the rage he felt towards Arthur and simply accepted the terrible treatment because he knew his friend meant well, but between all the arrests still taking place in the lower town and the fight they’d had, he wasn’t feeling very pleased with his king.

Arthur flinched at his words then nodded. “I suppose that’s fair. My behaviour was unacceptable, and you have every right to be angry. I shouldn’t have said those things, but I lost my temper.”

Merlin’s eyes had steadily gotten wider as Arthur spoke; it almost sounded like he was admitting he wrong. But then… that was all. Arthur was apparently done speaking and was looking at Merlin expectantly.

“That’s it?”

Arthur blinked; it seemed that wasn’t the reply he was expecting. “I- yes?”

“You didn’t even apologise,” Merlin said tersely. For a moment, as he looked at Arthur’s contrite expression, he was tempted to drop the matter; he’d done that every time his friend had offended, belittled or humiliated him in the past, and Arthur hadn’t always even admitted that he’d made a mistake. But, he thought, wouldn’t letting it go so easily now make Arthur behave that way again in the future? Forgiving and forgetting didn’t seem to be helping Arthur understand how much he hurt his friend, so Merlin straightened and forged on. “Saying that I’m right to be angry isn’t enough; I _am_ angry and, more importantly, disappointed.”

“I understand-“

“No, you don’t. You’re making excuses, saying that you lost your temper as if that makes it better, instead of just apologising.”

“How was I supposed to _not_ lose my temper?” Arthur retorted stubbornly. “You were out of line, disrespecting my father like-“

“Disagreeing with his decisions isn’t the same thing as disrespecting him. Am I not allowed to have an opinion?”

“Of course you are,” sighed Arthur. “Fine. It’s not your fault I lost my temper, and I should never have said the things I did. Alright?”

Merlin wanted to say yes, he really did. He hated fighting with Arthur. But it wasn’t the first time this had happened, and it _wasn’t alright_ ; he was so tired of being treated like a slave after everything he did for his king. For once, he wanted to be appreciated, and he wanted Arthur to apologise and really mean it, to have to actually earn his forgiveness. “That’s not enough.”

Arthur threw his hands up in exasperation. “What do you want me to say, Merlin?” Well, he was going to have to figure that one out on his own.

“I don’t know. Just… go away, will you? I need to rest,” Merlin replied, rubbing his face tiredly.

A few moments later, Arthur asked irritably, “Will you at least show up to work tomorrow morning, or will I have to rely on _George_ again?”

Merlin’s jaw clenched. Arthur really had the audacity to act as if _he_ had any right to angry? “Don’t worry, Sire. I’ll be there.”

“Good,” he said imperiously, remaining in his seat a while longer, as though waiting for Merlin to change his mind and accept his inadequate apology, before standing with a huff and striding out of the room. All of a sudden, the physician’s quarters seemed far too quiet, and Merlin suspected he wouldn’t actually be able to get any rest.

_Well_ , he thought bleakly, _that could’ve gone worse._

He held very little hope that Arthur would give in and just choose their friendship over his pride- especially when he refused to even acknowledge that they were friends- but that didn’t matter. Contrary to popular belief, Merlin could be just as proud; he was a sorcerer, he had defeated two high priestesses, he was the last dragonlord, he was _Emrys_ … He had endured so much in the years since he’d arrived in Camelot, but he found that he could not tolerate Arthur _threatening_ him for speaking up. Perhaps this was all just a result of his exhaustion and his pain at having to fight Morgana again; perhaps in a few hours he would see sense and return to his king’s side as he always did but… he didn’t think so. Agravaine had unknowingly echoed his nephew’s words when he’d claimed that he would put the servant in his place, and that _stung._ It was the last straw, although Merlin regretted that the series of humiliations he’d faced over the years hadn’t been enough to make him stand up for himself.

A low groan from the patients’ cot interrupted his moping, and Merlin looked up, startled to find that the sun had set and Gwaine had started stirring while he sat there feeling sorry for himself. He rushed over to the knight and handed him a cup of water, helping him sit up to drink it.

“What happened?” Gwaine asked after he drained the last of the water (and let out a loud burp, but Merlin was used to him at that point and didn’t react beyond half-heartedly rolling his eyes). Merlin set the cup down gently and pulled his chair towards the cot before he replied.

“How much do you remember?” he said as he sat down and settled in for a long talk. He had promised Gwaine an explanation, after all, and while he could probably lie or refuse to talk without his friend holding it against him, he thought the man deserved answers. If not for allowing him to keep his secrets all these years despite seeing right through him, then for being his most loyal friend since Lancelot’s death.

“We went to rescue the druid,” started Gwaine slowly, then his eyes widened in alarm. “Morgana found us; she used her magic on you! Are you hurt-“

“Gwaine, I’m fine,” Merlin replied warmly and laid a calming hand on the knight’s arm. “Aithne’s fine, too. We knocked Morgana and Agravaine out and brought you back to Camelot.”

Gwaine stared at Merlin for a long moment. “What do you mean you knocked them out? One’s a high priestess and the other is, I suppose, a decent swordsman. Last I saw, the ambassador could barely hold herself up so it was just you against the two of them!”

Merlin sighed and repeated the same story he’d told Arthur, cutting out the parts about a mysterious figure helping Morgana as they both knew full well it had been Agravaine. By the end of it, Gwaine was just looking at him skeptically- although he wasn’t quite quick enough to hide the glint of tired hurt in his eyes- and Merlin finally blurted, “Well, that’s the official story anyway.”

He could hear Gaius’ voice in his head berating him for being an idiot but he ignored it as he saw his friend’s face brightening with hope.

“Oh?” Gwaine prompted, attempting to appear nonchalant.

Well, he’d already started so he might as well dig himself in deeper. “The unofficial story that Arthur is not to hear about under any circumstances is that, first, Agravaine was the one helping Morgana. I told him it was just a random man,” he clarified. Gwaine grimaced but tilted his head in acceptance. “Second, it was I who managed to beat Agravaine.”

“You- really? _How_?”

 Merlin tried not to be offended at his disbelief. “I spend all my time with a bunch of idiotic knights and yet none of you ever think I might’ve picked up a few things about sword fighting.”

“Not enough to beat someone as skilled as Agravaine. Unless,” Gwaine said slowly, narrowing his eyes at Merlin suspiciously, “you’ve just been pretending to be absolutely terrible with swords this whole time…”

“Yep,” he admitted shamelessly, and Gwaine punched his arm lightly with a snort.

“Right, well, now that we’ve established that you’re a sneaky, devious liar, tell me what happened to Morgana.”

And there was the question that Merlin had been dreading. He wanted to answer his friend honestly, not because of his promise- God knew he’d told enough lies to feel entirely comfortable breaking that promise- but because Gwaine had always followed him unquestioningly, to the Perilous Lands, when they’d set out to find Gaius, and now even to fight a high priestess. The man’s trust in him was honestly bewildering and terrifying most of the time, but Merlin felt compelled to return it. If he couldn’t trust Gwaine- understanding, protective, _loyal_ Gwaine- then who could he trust?

Mind made up, he took a deep breath and carefully said, “Morgana was knocked out before Agravaine. Using magic.” He said nothing further as Gwaine went still, waiting first to see how he would react to the mention of magic. He hadn’t specifically _told_ him that he was a sorcerer, which gave him an out just in case Gwaine turned against him, but if he didn’t-

Maybe if he seemed accepting of it… Merlin could tell him. He could finally have someone he could trust with his secret after all those lonely years since Lancelot’s passing.

“ _Whose_ magic?” Gwaine’s voice was quiet and his face gave nothing away.

“Just… magic.” He might be willing to confess to having magic but there was no way he would ever give away Aithne’s secret. “It knocked her out, and she stayed down long enough for me to take care of Agravaine.”

“You have magic,” the knight murmured, eyes wide, and Merlin gulped fearfully even as he assured himself that Gwaine was trustworthy. “You have- Of _course_ you have magic. That explains _so much_. What the hell are you doing in Camelot, working for Arthur Pendragon? Are you out of your mind?”

Merlin shushed him frantically. “Keep your voice down!” It took a few seconds, but once Gwaine seemed calmer, he rushed to explain, “I have to stay in Camelot to protect Arthur- do you know how many times I’ve saved his life? But I only use it for that, I swear. I’d never betray Arthur or Camelot-“

“Well, obviously,” Gwaine interrupted impatiently, “I know that. But why did you even come here in the first place?”

“I was born with magic, and Mother sent me here to learn to control it from Gaius,” Merlin replied automatically, still blinking in shock. “Wait, what do you mean you know? I mean, you don’t seem angry or murderous or… I have _magic_!”

Gwaine laughed and shook his head. “You’re _you_ , Merlin. I’ve always suspected magic might not be as evil as they say it is in these parts, but now I know for sure. You are the least evil person I’ve ever met. Besides, no one in their right mind would question your loyalty to Arthur.”

“Oh,” was all Merlin could say at first, his eyes filling with tears. Even in his daydreams, he could never imagine that any of his friends would be able to accept his magic quite so easily, and he found himself overcome with a rush of love for Gwaine. “That’s- You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“I’m offended you apparently thought I would turn against you just because of the way you were born. Have I ever given you cause to doubt my friendship?” Merlin wordlessly shook his head, still sniffling and beaming at Gwaine. “Well, that’s not going to change. What _is_ going to change, however, is how you spend your nights from now on.”

“What?” Merlin really didn’t understand how his friend’s mind worked sometimes.

Gwaine just grinned and announced, “We are going to have _so_ much fun. I _cannot believe_ you’ve just been letting me carry out all those boring, non-magical pranks on everyone this whole time.” Oh God, Merlin knew where this was going now. “Think of all the things we can do with your magic, all the havoc we could wreak, all-“

“Gwaine, no,” Merlin laughed, “I can’t just use my magic for pranks; I have to keep it hidden. Except, of course, on the days when Arthur is being particularly annoying.”

 The knight laughed delightedly, no doubt wondering which of the king’s many mishaps could be attributed to Merlin’s magic, before sobering slightly. “Well, just in case it still isn’t clear to you, Merlin, I won’t tell anyone about your magic, and I’m going to help you hide it. I just wish you’d told me earlier; I can’t even imagine how afraid you must have felt all these years.”

Merlin felt close to tears again at the warmth and sympathy in Gwaine’s gaze. “It’s not easy but… I’m glad I have someone with whom I can talk about it now.”

“You’re not alone anymore, I promise,” his friend replied solemnly, and Merlin flinched at the words, quickly looking away in shame.

“Thank you, Gwaine,” he mumbled, “You should rest now; I’m going to get some sleep, too.”

He fled up the stairs to his room and shut the door behind him before slumping on his bed. His emotions were swinging wildly between joy, guilt, relief and sadness, and his exhaustion wasn’t helping. Gwaine’s faith in him was still _incredible_ , and it made him miss Lancelot fiercely, but what he’d said… _You’re not alone anymore_. Merlin’s throat tightened with emotion; he had wanted to hear those words for so long, and he knew it wasn’t just him. He knew- he _knew_ how much Morgana had longed for someone to tell her that when she was still lonely and terrified.

Seeing her again, speaking to her about all of it for the first time, was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. It didn’t matter what terrible crimes she committed when he saw the ill-concealed betrayal in her eyes every time she looked at him. He still dreamed of it sometimes; watching her choke, her eyes widening in realization as she clawed desperately at her throat. Uther may have set Morgana on the path to becoming the monster she was today, but it had been Merlin’s betrayal that finally broke her. And he knew, even if she didn’t, that he had really abandoned her long before that day.

Poisoning her was terrible but he’d had little choice, especially considering that she seemed to have no qualms about letting the knights of Medhir kill him and Arthur. Keeping his magic from her, however, when he personally knew exactly how lonely and helpless she felt, was unforgivable. Over the years, Merlin had tried to convince himself that the secrecy had been necessary, that telling her wouldn’t have made a difference, but he knew that was a lie. A comfortable lie, but one he couldn’t bear to tell himself any longer. Not after seeing her again and hearing her accusations, after witnessing what she’d become because he had been too cowardly to save her.

He thought of all the people he’d failed- Morgana, Will, Lancelot, his father, and, oh, Freya… His mind shied away from the memory of Freya’s face, smiling, laughing, sleeping, _dying_ -

Merlin heaved a shuddering breath and close his eyes. His chest clenched in agony, as it always did when he remembered the druid girl he’d come to care for in almost no time at all. She had suffered because of his cowardice, just as Morgana had. He knew Gaius had advised him against revealing himself to Morgana, but he’d used his old mentor’s disapproval as an excuse to avoid doing the right thing for far too long. He didn’t blame him, of course, for always cautioning him against trusting anyone and talking him out of helping other sorcerers; Gaius was the closest thing he had to a father, and he loved his ward far too much to want him to put himself at risk. The only one to blame for his inaction was Merlin himself.

It was too late for Morgana, and he would always carry the guilt for that, but now there _was_ someone he could still save from a similar fate. He couldn’t fail Bradan, too. Suddenly, the decision he had spent so long agonising over seemed so simple. Merlin didn’t know if Fawn and her brother would still accept any help from him, but he was determined to try. He had damned Morgana and countless other sorcerers for his destiny and for Arthur’s sake, but finally, as he sat there on his rickety old bed and thought of the bright, kind witch he’d once known, he swore that he would never again sit by idly and allow his fear to take another one of his kin away from him. He could no longer hide in the shadows and wait for his destiny to be fulfilled. He was _Emrys_ ; his people were counting on him, and he would not let them down.


	7. Evil Plots And Angsty Kings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very late, I know. I've been so busy with university and midterms that I barely had time to finish this and start writing the next chapter, let alone upload anything. But on the bright side, at least it's finally here and the next one is half done!
> 
> I'm a bit nervous about this chapter because I've never written anything like this, so let me know what you think of it!

_This is pathetic_ , Merlin thought as he stood shivering before the door to Fawn’s house. He had arrived there over ten minutes earlier, and he still couldn’t muster the courage to actually knock. It wasn’t that he was afraid, really; he was simply far too ashamed to see Fawn- and Bradan- again after their last conversation. If he had thought that it might blow over eventually after Fawn had some time to cool down, he’d soon realised that he was sorely mistaken. The young woman had taken to pretending that he didn’t exist and, when he’d tried to initiate a conversation, had promptly left the room. For all of those reasons, he was understandably wary of attempting to contact her again, lest he be faced with a wrathful and overprotective sister trying to keep the likes of him away from her brother.

Merlin dithered for a few more minutes, then, taking a fortifying breath, he raised his fist and knocked softly. With Fawn still be angry with him, going to her house was likely a very dangerous activity, but Arthur didn’t call him a reckless fool for no reason. And _oh_ , he winced because he should _not_ have thought about Arthur just then. Their fight- _both_ fights- was still fresh in his mind, and while his newfound resolve to step into his role as Emrys brought him some measure of relief, it didn’t make him feel any better about the situation with Arthur. There were probably more important things to worry about, he knew, but their friendship was too precious to him for that to matter. The two of them were at an impasse, with Arthur too stubborn to apologise and Merlin too proud to simply back down and forgive him. _Gwaine_ certainly didn’t think that Arthur deserved his forgiveness; he had scowled and raged when Merlin told him about the things Arthur had said during that first argument and about his refusal to properly make amends now. It had taken almost an hour to talk him out of punching the king in the face, although Merlin was secretly pleased at how protective his friend was being and cherished the memory of the long hours they’d spent talking of his magic after Gwaine’s initial discovery. He’d forgotten, in the years since Lancelot’s death, how freeing it was to simply let go and be able to speak his mind with no thought for the consequences.

He was brought out of his thoughts as the door squeaked open to reveal Bradan, covered in bread crumbs and blinking in surprise at him. Merlin briefly wondered if Fawn had told her brother about his refusal to help him. He really hoped not.

“Evening,” he said brightly a few awkward moments later.

“Hello, Merlin,” the boy replied uncertainly, then pointed over his shoulder. “Uh, Fawn is inside- I mean, if you’re here to see her?”

Judging from Bradan’s manner, it seemed his sister had told him of her fight with Merlin. Great. “Yes, please. I need to speak with her.”

A few moments later, Merlin was settled at the scarred dining table inside the house for the first time since he’d angered Fawn, and she was coming out from behind a thick cloth screen with a fierce scowl on her face. Apparently, Bradan was smarter than Merlin, as he mumbled something about drawing some water from the well then quickly made himself scarce as soon as he caught sight of his sister’s expression.

“What do you want?” Fawn demanded coldly the second Bradan stepped out of the house. It was a bad start to what would likely be a grueling conversation.     

“Look, I know you have every right to be furious with me,” Merlin started nervously, “and I’m not asking you to forgive me for being a selfish idiot. I’m just here to ask you to let me not be a selfish idiot.”

Fawn looked very confused- which was something most people experienced when speaking with Merlin- before deciding to go right back to being angry. Merlin rushed to explain before she could kick him out, “Um, that came out wrong. I meant it would be my pleasure to help Bradan and teach him to control his gifts. Also, please stop being angry with me; you’re very scary.”

A few moments passed, during which he sat breathlessly anticipating her response. He really didn’t fancy being kicked back out into the cold but he wouldn’t blame Fawn if she refused his help; he imagined he’d be just as furious if someone condemned his mother to a horrible death out of cowardice. Thankfully, though, his friend finally replied hopefully, “You mean it? You’ll really help him?”

“Of course,” he said softly. “He and I are kin. I should have agreed to it from the beginning but I was- afraid. I’m so sorry for the fear and pain I made the two of you go through.”   

 Fawn was already waving his apologies away with an ecstatic smile, and she bounded up to him and gave him a relieved hug. “Thank you. _Thank_ you, Merlin. You don’t how much this means to me and Bradan- I mean, I didn’t tell him about any of what happened with you, of course, other than the fact that I wasn’t speaking to you anymore, but he’ll be so overjoyed to know that there’s someone else like him in Camelot! He’s been so morose and terrified recently.”

Merlin flinched at that. He knew _exactly_ how Bradan felt, and yet he’d abandoned him anyway. “I’m sorry-“

“Oh, stop apologising, you idiot,” Fawn huffed. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry. I don’t have magic so I couldn’t possibly imagine what you must be going through, how afraid you must feel… The only person who should be apologising for being selfish is me, for expecting you to risk revealing yourself for my brother when it could get you killed.”

Well, that was… not at all what he’d expected when he had come here. He thought Fawn was forgiving him too easily in her relief but at the same time, it eased something in him to hear those words. Yes, his actions were reprehensible- had been for quite some time really- but perhaps he wasn’t as irredeemable as he’d thought.

“I think you’re far too forgiving,” Merlin said wryly, “but I’m glad for it. I promise I won’t let you and your brother down again, and I will do everything in my power to protect him.”

Fawn beamed at him, and the tension remaining between them finally dissolved. When Bradan returned almost an hour later- clearly without any water, Merlin noted with amusement- the two of them dissolved into giggles at the bafflement on his face as he stared at Merlin contentedly braiding Fawn’s hair before he gave an awkward sort of shrug and left them to their silliness. It hadn’t been more than a few days since The Fight (it _was_ a very huge fight, and Merlin felt that, after everything he’d been through, he had earned the right to be at least a little melodramatic) but it had felt much longer to Merlin. Fawn was one of his closest and most trusted friends, one whom he could now be open with about his magic; and as he sighed happily and listened to her prattle about her neighbour’s chickens, he found himself thinking that between Gwaine and Fawn discovering and accepting his magic, he had never felt more at ease.

 

* * *

 

No matter how much he tried to pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary, Arthur had never felt more uncomfortable in his own castle than he did that day. It seemed like the whole world was conspiring against him, and were he more like his father, he probably would have suspected that sorcery had something to do with it. As it was, he was irritably- and probably quite irrationally but he couldn’t bring himself to care at this point- blaming his manservant for his bad luck, despite the fact that Merlin was clearly too incompetent to be a sorcerer. However, he thought, the facts were these:

One, he had fought with Merlin the previous night. Merlin was as insolent as usual (this had nothing to do with the matter at hand but Arthur felt it had to be noted that his servant was a terrible servant).

Two, Merlin had woken Arthur up quietly without any sort of violence or struggle. He’d even completed all his chores efficiently and politely. The _audacity_.

Three, it appeared his knights had noticed the idiot’s unnatural behaviour and decided it was _Arthur’s_ fault, so he couldn’t even let his frustration out during training because apparently, Camelot’s finest knights were more loyal to a servant than their king. He’d been subjected to several glares- even _Leon_ had been shooting him disapproving looks the whole morning- and _Sir_ Gwaine hadn’t even tried to hide his hostility, the bastard. To make a bad day even worse, Arthur had tripped and gotten a face full of dirt on his way out of the field after training was over, and Gwaine had laughed at him. Loudly.

And last but not least, Guinevere seemed to have turned against him too. She was unfailingly polite, of course, but the disappointment in her gaze made him feel like dirt. His attempt to start a conversation had failed miserably as she announced that she was Very Busy that day, and he couldn’t even call her out on the obvious lie if he wanted to avoid a lecture on the struggles of being a servant that he could never possibly understand. Sometimes, he almost wished he _were_ a servant so he didn’t have to automatically lose all his arguments with Merlin and Guinevere. Almost.

At any rate, considering all that had happened that day, Arthur felt he was justified in thinking it was all somehow Merlin’s fault- even his fall. Guinevere and all his knights were angry with him, and Arthur was starting to imagine that even the other servants and courtiers were glaring at him too, even though he knew that probably wasn’t actually the case. Since when was _Merlin_ this well-liked anyway? Arthur would have thought at least his knights would take his side; _he_ was supposed to be the popular one, not Merlin, he thought grumpily. Not to mention, he was fairly sure that Merlin hadn’t actually told anyone about what had happened between the two of them, which meant that everyone had chosen not to side with him without even knowing who was at fault! And it was Merlin, obviously. Arthur couldn’t be in the wrong; he was the King.

He walked back to his quarters, keeping an eye out for clumsy, idiotic manservants who really needed to stop being so girly and forgive him already so things could go back to normal. Merlin was being too sensitive, as usual; Arthur had apologised, admitted that he was wrong to say the things he did, and even ignored the fact that Merlin had tried to run away and steal one of his knights in the process! He really didn’t know what else that- that _clotpole_ wanted him to do so that he would stop sulking. And the worst part was that, no matter how much he tried to convince himself he didn’t care, being at odds with Merlin just felt _wrong_. Whenever he pulled off an impressive move on the training field, he would turn to Merlin to gloat, only to realise that the other man had never even glanced his way. When he witnessed Lord Airell (a pompous northern noble Merlin tended to rant about angrily whenever he visited Camelot) make a fool of himself in front of the ladies of the court, he shot Merlin an amused look which slowly faded away as he met his stony gaze. As painful as it was to admit, he had grown used to Merlin’s presence, his passion and chatter and endless optimism, so not having his servant by his side felt like Arthur was missing a limb, and he gloomily wondered how long this would last.

He also wondered what his father would think of him, the King of Camelot, wasting his afternoon moping around his own castle because his manservant wasn’t speaking to him. It was all very ridiculous.    

Arthur was a few corridors away from his chambers when he heard his name being called. He turned to find his uncle striding toward him with a pinched look on his face that did nothing to improve Arthur’s mood. He waited expectantly as Agravaine caught up with him and gave a respectful nod.

“Arthur, I’ve been looking for you,” his uncle said. “I noticed this morning that you seem a bit… off.”

Arthur groaned. Perfect. This was just what he needed; Agravaine thought it was bad enough that Arthur loved Guinevere, so he could just imagine the man’s reaction to finding out the source of Arthur’s angst.

“Off, Uncle? I’m not sure what you mean. Training today was most satisfactory. Were you watching? Some of the knights almost managed to beat me!” Arthur deflected as the two of them resumed their walk toward his chambers, hoping that if his uncle _had_ been watching, he hadn’t noticed that his near-defeat was actually because of his knights going into a protective rage over Merlin.

“Of course, Arthur, I have no doubt that the men you train are the most skilled fighters in all of Camelot,” Agravaine replied proudly and gave Arthur a fatherly pat on the shoulder, which _did_ improve his mood. “But I noticed some- tension between you and your manservant. It came as a bit of a surprise; I know you are quite fond of the boy.”

Arthur made a face at the word. “ _Fond_? Of that idiot? Really-“

“Arthur,” his uncle interrupted gently, following Arthur into his room as they arrived at the door, “I do hope you know that should you need a listening ear, I am always here for you. You can tell me about your troubles; you can let me _help_ you.”

Oh. That was- Arthur gulped and tried to hold back tears. He was aware that it was ridiculous to get so emotional over a few kind words but he couldn’t help it; he was Uther Pendragon’s son. How many times had he longed to hear those very words from his own father? How long had he worked tirelessly to gain the smallest scrap of approval from that cold, stern man? He felt guilty thinking it so soon after his father’s death but a small, love-starved part of him cried out that Agravaine was a better father and mentor than Uther had ever been, and after what the man had just said… Arthur couldn’t imagine keeping anything from him. Agravaine’s offer was enough to make almost all of his fears and anxieties spill out of him as though he were a child in need of reassurance.

“Thank you, Uncle,” he finally said, overcome with the urge to let Agravaine know just how much he appreciated him. “You don’t know how much your support has meant to me these past months. I- I don’t know what I would do without your guidance.”

“And you will never have to find out,” Agravaine reassured him, his eyes shining with more love and concern than Arthur had ever seen directed toward him from his father. “I promised my dear sister that I would always protect you and remain by your side, and I intend to keep that promise. Now tell me, Arthur, what is troubling you?”

Arthur sighed at his uncle’s fixation on the Merlin Problem (or Problems, really) but perhaps he would feel better after talking it out.

“It’s nothing very important, Uncle,” he began, sitting down at the table and making himself comfortable. “Just a few issues with Merlin.”

“So this _does_ have something to do with him, then?”

“Yes. Well, not just him. Everyone hates me now! I mean, Guinevere and the knights,” Arthur clarified, although judging by the growing confusion on Agravaine’s face, he wasn’t doing a very good job of explaining things. “Right, so, a few days ago, when the search for the sorcerer Emrys began, Merlin and I had a fight. He thought I was being too harsh, that I should let Emrys go as long as he harmed no one in Camelot, and I objected, of course, which led to him accusing my father of murdering innocent- _innocent_ \- sorcerers. Which led to _me_ shouting some rather unpleasant things back at him. Ah, you know, things like ‘you’re just a servant’ and ‘you should know your place’…” Arthur’s rambling came to a stop and he flinched in shame again as he remembered the terrible words he’d thrown at his- friend.

It took Agravaine a few moments to process his semi-coherent story, then he leaned back in his chair with his brows furrowed in concern. “And now Merlin is upset and has managed to turn your knights against you?”

“No, no, it’s not like that,” Arthur replied hastily. “Yes, Merlin may be angry but he would never intentionally turn _anyone_ against me. The knights and Guinevere must have simply noticed his bad mood and, well, they care about him.”

“Of course,” Agravaine said, “but I can’t imagine why you would feel guilty, Arthur. It is clear that you do, but why?”

Arthur stared at him uncomprehendingly. “Why? I told you what I said to Merlin. After all he’s done, all the years he’s stood by my side-“

“Yes, he has been extraordinarily loyal to you. But surely you can see that you are not the one at fault here? No matter what, the boy should not have spoken ill of your father; that is unforgivable.”

“I know, it made me angry at first too, but he’s right. He _didn’t_ mean anything by it, and what I said was more unforgivable. I should never have blown it all out of proportion the way I did.” Arthur raised a hand to forestall his uncle as he saw him open his mouth to protest. “No, it’s true. The only problem now is that he won’t forgive me. I apologised, you know, personally went down to his and Gaius’ rooms to do it, but he wouldn’t accept my apology. He said it wasn’t enough! I’m not sure what I should do to prove my sincerity, Uncle.”

Agravaine was silent for a few seconds, then he leaned forward with a sigh and placed his hand on Arthur’s supportively. “Listen to me, Arthur,” he spoke seriously, “I know that you and the boy have a bond and that you are grateful for his service; I understand completely. You feel that you owe him in return for his loyalty, but you must not forget that he owes you too. He owes you his respect and trust, as his friend and his _king_. Most of all, he owes you his support in this difficult time. You were a bit harsh, yes, but no one can blame you for being angry after hearing someone say such terrible things about your father. Merlin insulted the late king, and you reacted appropriately. And now he expects _you_ to apologise when he should. You are not the one to blame for this situation, Arthur. And…” Here Agravaine hesitated.

Arthur was sitting forward in his chair, soaking up the man’s comforting words, and when Agravaine went silent, he prompted, “And?”

“Well, I’m sure it will be unpleasant, Arthur, but I feel it is my duty to bring this to your attention,” his uncle said uncomfortably, drawing out the words. “Merlin has always shown some… support for sorcerers in the past, and I’m certain I’m not the only one to find his defense of this Emrys rather strange.”

“Support?” Arthur repeated incredulously. “Merlin does not support any sorcerers. He’s only opposing this search now because he’s too soft to want anyone to get hurt. No, Uncle, I know Merlin; his loyalty to me, and to Camelot, has never been in question.”

“No, of course not,” Agravaine agreed immediately, and Arthur relaxed. “I’m not suggesting that the boy is disloyal. But this softness that you mentioned is dangerous. I’ve heard stories, Arthur; didn’t Morgana first turn toward her dark path because she began to feel _sympathy_ for these monsters? Did she not begin to disobey your father and oppose his views regarding sorcerers, just as Merlin does now with you? It may start out that way, Arthur, with good intentions, but sorcerers can twist the mind and turn the purest hearts toward evil.”

That was true. Arthur knew it, he’d _seen_ it happen with Morgana; people like Morgause, like _Emrys_ , had turned her into the deranged and bitter woman she was now. But Merlin was _different_. He was the farthest thing from evil the king had ever known, and Arthur said so to his uncle.

“Yes, for now. We both know that, once upon a time, your sister was as kind and compassionate as Merlin, but people change, Arthur. _Magic_ changes them, poisons them, until there is no trace left of the people they used to be. And I fear that Merlin may become like Morgana should he continue to defend sorcery and those who practice it. He may already be corrupted, sire.” Arthur went to object but his uncle continued before he could. “After all, was it not Merlin who urged you to use magic to cure your father?” He froze, unwillingly remembering that terrible day, as Agravaine continued to speak of his suspicions. “We must consider the fact that Merlin likely knew the sorcerer Dragoon, just like Gaius. I recall that he even tried to _defend_ the old man; he claimed that Dragoon was not to blame for your father’s death!”

He had, hadn’t he? Merlin was adamant that Dragoon had only meant to help and that Uther would have died anyway. And Arthur could remember other times that Merlin had tried to protect sorcerers. How had he never noticed Merlin’s lax attitude toward magic? Mordred and Dragoon and Emrys… It was all too obvious now that he thought about it. Agravaine was right; Merlin… approved of magic. Or, even if he did not approve, then he at least accepted it.

“I’m relieved to see that you are at least thinking about this, Arthur,” his uncle spoke at last, after the silence had gone on for too long with Arthur lost in his own thoughts. “We must be vigilant. Those who aid sorcerers cannot be trusted, regardless of whether they practice magic themselves. With your permission, sire, I can have the boy watched-“

Arthur’s head shot up. “No.”

“Do you want him to be questioned, then?”

“Of course not! This is Merlin we’re talking about.”

 “Arthur, we’ve gone over this,” Agravaine sighed. “Even the best men can be changed by magic, and it’s clear that Merlin has allowed himself to be corrupted. He cannot be afforded any special treatment simply because of his position as your manservant-“

“This has nothing to do with his position,” Arthur interrupted him yet again. “Merlin has always been loyal to me, and I will not reward his loyalty by treating him like a criminal. I don’t believe that he truly comprehends the evil of sorcery but he has committed no crimes. Let _me_ deal with him; I will help him understand.”

“But he-“

“I will deal with him,” Arthur repeated, narrowing his eyes in warning as he saw Agravaine trying to protest again.

“Very well, sire,” replied his uncle unhappily after a moment as he stood up and prepared to leave, disappointment clear on his face. Just before he exited the room, he turned around one more time and said, “I only hope the boy does not betray your trust.”

“He won’t.” That was one thing Arthur would never doubt, and he would save his friend from being corrupted by sorcery. Agravaine sent his nephew an unreadable look that made his insides squirm before he finally stepped out and shut the door behind him with a quiet snick.


	8. Merlin's New Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's finally done. I know it took so long but I've been swamped with work for uni. Actually, I probably should be studying right now considering I have three exams and a choir performance on Sunday but... I missed writing so here we are. The comments on this have been really sweet and I honestly can't tell you how much I appreciate them! They're what keeps me going so thank you to everyone who's been leaving them. Anyway, it's a long-ish chapter this time, so I hope you enjoy!

Merlin looked terrible, and he also looked far too happy about it.

It was midmorning, and the castle was bustling with life. When he was younger, Arthur had loved the noise and liveliness of Camelot in the early mornings. Less so now, when he wanted to catch as much sleep as possible before his manservant woke him up. Or at least, his manservant was _supposed_ to wake him up, and yet here he was, exhausted and trying to catch up on his endless tasks and meetings because he'd woken up too late. _Again._

And there Merlin was, an hour later, rushing up the stairs and bumping into his king like a fool.

When he had woken up to an empty room that morning, Arthur had assumed that Merlin was still brooding but now that he'd seen him, he had to admit that this was not the look of a man who had been intentionally neglecting his duties out of anger. Rather, it was the look of someone who had not slept at all after a harrowing experience. And who was extremely satisfied with his sorry state, for some reason?

"What on Earth- Where have you been!" Arthur demanded as he righted himself, squinting at the servant catching his breath before him. He ran his eyes over the other man critically and noted with great exasperation that he was still wearing the same clothes he'd been in the night before. And the circles under his eyes looked as though they'd been painted there. Arthur was trying very hard to be angry, really, but his concern was winning out; Merlin looked pathetic.

"Sorry, sire," Merlin said cheerfully, not sounding sorry at all. "I didn't sleep last night, and then I _did_ fall asleep near dawn, and then I overslept, and-"

" _Mer_ lin," Arthur groaned, "It's far too early in the morning for me to have to listen to your babbling."

"Sorry, sire," he repeated. Again, Arthur thought with amusement, he seemed completely unrepentant. But, although Arthur would normally complain about that, he was too relieved at the normalcy between them to even care. He didn't know what had brought about Merlin's change of heart but he was just glad that they were back to their friendly banter. Could his friend really have forgiven him so easily?

"I suppose it's only to be expected that you get a few nightmares after what you went through with Morgana. Just try to actually arrive on time tomorrow," he allowed. Merlin looked as though he were about to protest but then he shut his mouth and nodded complacently. "At least you've finally gotten over your sulk."

Merlin looked confused for a moment then eyed him coldly. _Ah, so he hasn't gotten over it_ , Arthur thought with a sinking stomach.

"Sulk, sire? Is that what you're calling it?" Merlin questioned in a deceptively soft voice. "I am _so_ sorry to have inconvenienced you; I should've just swallowed my pride and taken your insults, right?"

Arthur winced. "No, that's not- I just thought you weren't upset anymore, that's all. Because you look so disgustingly cheerful this morning…"

"Not everything is about you, sire," Merlin snorted, and the King felt his face flush. It _had_ been silly to assume that he was the source of the man's good mood. "I'm _happy_ because I was able to visit two of my friends last night and help them."

"So it _wasn't_ because of nightmares," Arthur said with confusion. He felt vaguely hurt that Merlin had lied to him but what did he expect? They were hardly friends, these days. "You're late because you were fooling around with your friends?"

"No, there were no nightmares," Merlin replied shiftily, then straightened and glared at Arthur. "And I wasn't _fooling around_ ; they needed my help. I'm not going to abandon my friends for anything, and certainly not just because you don't know how to dress yourself!"

"I do know how to dress myself," said Arthur defensively, then his mouth snapped shut. They were causing a scene, and many of the servants were watching them out of the corners of their eyes. Watching the King argue with his manservant about whether or not he knew how to get dressed. _How embarrassing._

Arthur straightened and cleared his throat, then said imperiously, "It's none of _my_ concern what you were doing with your friends, Merlin. I just want you to do your job so I can do mine; I have far more important, _kingly_ things to worry about than my servant's whereabouts, obviously."

"Of course, sire," Merlin snorted, although Arthur noted sadly that his friend no longer seemed very friendly when he mocked him. "I won't waste anymore of your time; after all, I'm nothing but a servant, and I know _my place_." With that, he stepped around Arthur and walked off without a backward glance.

Arthur dropped his head in his hands, chest aching as he remembered the terrible words he'd said. Stupid, it was so _stupid_ ; he and Merlin had been through much worse things before, and he refused to mourn their fractured friendship because surely it couldn't end just because of a few thoughtless words. Their friendship had withstood everything from poison and betrayal to dragons; surely Arthur couldn't lose his closest friend over something like _this_. It was too frightening to even consider his life without Merlin in it, but something told him that the other man wouldn't come running back to forgive him this time. It was up to Arthur repair their relationship, but he had no idea how to do that.

And the whole time, although he was unconscious of it, a niggling voice at the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Agravaine whispered insidiously about Merlin, and loyalty, and magic.

 

* * *

 

Merlin hummed contentedly as he dunked Arthur's rich, heavy robes into the soapy water, his mind drifting. The previous night had gone better than he'd expected- _much_ better- not just with Fawn, but with Bradan too. He hadn't thought that he'd start teaching the boy so soon but as soon as he'd heard that Merlin had magic, Bradan had been bursting with questions- that is, after he was done bursting into relieved tears- and Merlin had found that mentoring him felt enjoyable and as natural as though he'd always been meant to do it. He felt a pang as he thought of Morgana, and all the ways he could've helped her, but the weight of that heartbreak was now lighter, somehow. Showing Bradan his magic felt completely different than showing Lancelot or Gwaine or Fawn. And _teaching_ him about magic was just- brilliant; it had unlocked something in Merlin and made him feel as though he were floating, and nothing, not even his tense interaction with Arthur that morning, could take that feeling away from him.

He walked out of the laundry room, arms weighed down with fabric. It had been pleasant to finally be able to speak to Fawn again to alleviate the boredom when they were working. Gwen, in particular, seemed very relieved that they were on speaking terms again; she was very close to them both and had been awkwardly caught in between them, attempting not to take sides. Although, the look on her face when she'd noticed that the tension between Fawn and Merlin had been exchanged for tension between _Arthur_ and Merlin still made him snort quietly as he made his way through the busy corridors of the castle. It was not remotely funny, but Merlin tried to find humour in the situation with Arthur; laughing about it was infinitely preferable to crying.

Of course, Merlin was happier than he'd been since he'd come to Camelot- he felt safer, and loved, and- well, not worthless. He knew most of the feelings of worthlessness he'd experienced in the past few years were a direct result of Arthur's treatment. That didn't mean that he didn't love his friend any longer; he did, and he always would, but he just no longer felt that he had to put up with abuse just because he loved him. Not now that he'd witnessed Gwaine and Fawn's reactions to his magic, and realised that that was how friends were supposed to act.

Hours and several completed chores later, Merlin put out the candles in Arthur's room while the other man sat at his desk, pointedly ignoring him. The two of them had not spoken a word to each other since their argument that morning and Merlin was startled to find that he was not bothered by the state of things between them despite the awkwardness. It was certainly less stressful and painful for him to not be constantly insulted and put down by one of his closest friends.

He absently smoothed down the bedcovers, excitedly thinking of all the things he could teach Bradan that night. There hadn't been much time for them to actually get work done the previous night because of all the joyful crying and explanations but Merlin was determined to teach the boy all he knew. Of course, he didn't know as much as he would've were he not in Camelot, although teaching Bradan had certainly motivated him to focus on his studies with renewed fervour. He suspected that Fawn's brother wouldn't be the only one improving drastically because of their lessons.

Chores done, Merlin straightened and cast his eyes about the king's chambers critically to make sure nothing was out of place- he couldn't afford to let Arthur have any complaints with his work anymore, not when their relationship was so fragile, and if he was being honest, he didn't really fancy speaking to his king just then.

"Goodnight, Sire," he murmured before making his way out of the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur shift as though he was about to say something but Merlin quickly made his escape before he could speak.

As he usually did nowadays, Merlin firmly put all thoughts of Arthur out of his mind the moment he left his presence, sighing contentedly as he moved on to happier thoughts. _What should I teach Bradan tonight?_ he mused. It couldn't be anything too difficult; he thought he could start by showing him the exercises that he'd used when he'd been trying to control his own magic as a young boy. At the moment, learning control was the most important thing Bradan had to do, if he was to keep his magic concealed. The boy really was unlucky, to have his magic appear now of all times. Not for the first time in the past few days, Merlin silently cursed Arthur and his obsession with finding Emrys.

Merlin shivered as he stepped out into the cold air, moving swiftly but silently through the lower town. His threadbare clothes never did much to shield him from the cold on nights such as this, and he had not yet gotten the hang of making his warming spells last for longer than an hour at most. Perhaps teaching Bradan could help him master those simple spells he'd always struggled with.

He was just passing near Gwen's house when the back of his neck started prickling. Merlin slowed down slightly; after all those years in Camelot, he had learned never to ignore his instincts, and right now they were screaming at him that something was wrong. Continuing on his way casually, Merlin waited until he passed behind a large wheelbarrow, then quickly ducked into the nearest alley. He paused for a moment then doubled back behind the small wooden houses that made up this part of the town and crept forward to peek out at the moonlit street. For a moment, he saw nothing out of the ordinary and was just starting to think that he had imagined it all when he finally caught sight of the tall, dark robed man almost blending into the shadows. _Agravaine._

Merlin's breath hissed out through his teeth as he watched Agravaine look around in frustration, no doubt searching for him, and he spared a moment to be grateful for his well-honed survival instincts (yes, they _did_ exist, contrary to popular belief). He didn't want to imagine what might have happened had the traitor followed him to Fawn and Bradan. It only took a few more minutes for Agravaine to give up on waiting and turn back to the castle, cloak billowing dramatically behind him. _Did he learn that from Morgana?_

With a relieved sigh, Merlin cautiously snuck back to Fawn's house, making sure to take the longer but less exposed path. Upon reaching the modest home, he knocked softly, then waited the few moments it took for an eager Bradan to throw the door open with a wide grin and practically shout his name. Merlin winced at the volume and shushed the boy, although he was secretly pleased at the warm welcome. He'd feared that Bradan would be too afraid to really trust him but clearly, he needn't have worried. Or, perhaps more accurately, he needn't have worried about _that_ ; he was definitely worried that Bradan would expose them, however. Merlin and Fawn had already had to talk the overly enthusiastic fifteen year old out of showing up at the castle during the day for their lessons. He had also suggested they use their magic to prank Arthur after Merlin had complained about his attitude, leaving Fawn almost clawing her hair out with worry and frustration.

"Hello, Merlin!" Bradan said again at a lower volume once they'd stepped into the house and shut the door, practically bouncing with excitement.

"Hello," Merlin echoed with a warm smile. "I'm glad to see that I'm not the only one looking forward to our lessons."

Bradan opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by Fawn, who was lounging tiredly on her bed. "He's been chattering nonstop about magic for the past _hour_ , Merlin," she complained. "You're turning him into _you_."

"There's nothing wrong with him!" Bradan exclaimed indignantly, and Merlin blushed at the boy's defense of him. He was never too comfortable with the admiration he received from other sorcerers, and _someone_ had seen fit to inform Bradan of his status as "the druid king, or something". Merlin shot Fawn a glare as she smirked at his discomfort.

He cleared his throat and turned back to his- student. That was still strange to think about; he felt far too stupid to have a student. "Shall we get started, then?"

"Yes, come sit," Bradan invited, even pulling Merlin's chair out for him and ignoring his sister's disbelieving snort. "I've been practicing those calming exercises you told me about yesterday to focus my magic."

"That's good; we'll need that tonight. We're going to start trying to cast spells without-"

"Wait, don't you think that's too soon?" Fawn interrupted. "He can't possibly be ready to do any magic yet, not without it going out of control the way it did before."

"I don't expect him to cast anything yet," he assured her. "Magic is best learnt through experience but it _will_ be some time before he can consciously call on his magic, let alone control it."

Bradan looked simultaneously relieved and disappointed. "Oh. So why are we starting to cast now, then?"

"Because you need to… familiarise yourself with your magic first, in order to use it," Merlin explained, although he had never needed to do anything of the sort. He _had_ , however, read enough about the experiences of other magic users enough to feel confident teaching Bradan. "Think of it this way: your magic is sort of like a well of power inside of you, and every time you cast a spell, you draw some magic from that well. But before you can do that, you need to _locate_ the well first. Then, you have to practice using it without pulling too much, or too little power. That's why most sorcerers tend to use meditation when they're first learning to use magic; it allows you to- sink into your mind, I suppose, and find the source of your magic."

Fawn just looked at him blankly, but Bradan nodded. "Oh, I think I understand. It did feel a bit like that when I used my magic accidentally. The well is a good, uh-"

"Analogy," Fawn supplied.

"Yeah, that. Except it was less like I was drawing water from the well and more like the well exploded in my face."

"That's why we're here. You'll learn to control it better in time," Merlin promised, laying a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. "Now, the easiest spells to cast are generally fire spells. That's because it only takes one small push of power to start the fire, after which it sustains itself. Spells to levitate objects or create light, however, are a bit harder because they require a constant stream of magic to maintain them, so we won't be trying those just yet. For now, we're just going to do something simple: light a candle. Intent and willpower are the most important components to casting any spell. I want you to do the same exercises you've been doing but this time, focus on your magic; think about how it felt when it burst out of you and where it came from. Clear your mind of everything but your magic and this candle, and think about how much you want to light it."

Merlin's voice was low and calm, almost hypnotic, as he watched Bradan's features relax in response to his tone. For the next two hours, the two of them sat before the decidedly unlit candle, Merlin keeping up a steady stream of soft instructions and encouragement, while his young friend attempted to find his magic. Unsurprisingly, he never came close to lighting the candle, although Merlin was impressed by how calm he was. Bradan was generally slow to anger but Merlin had expected at least _some_ frustration over his failure.

"Well, you said I wouldn't manage it tonight," the boy said when he asked him about his surprising composure. "Besides, this meditation stuff is actually fun; I thought it would be a lot more boring."

"It _will_ begin to bore you eventually, after a few days," Merlin warned.

"That's alright. It's worth it to learn magic, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," he said with a smile, then stretched tiredly. He looked up to see Fawn sound asleep and added, "I should probably be getting back to the castle to get some sleep too. We can continue tomorrow."

"Thank you, Merlin," Bradan said seriously. "You don't know how much this means to me."

"It really is my pleasure to teach you. You've made a lot of progress tonight," Merlin added, smiling at the way Bradan preened at the praise. He made his way to the door and nodded to the boy. "Goodnight, Bradan."

"Goodnight, Merlin!" Bradan chirped happily with a wave as he shut the door behind his new teacher.

Recalling Agravaine's attempt at spying earlier, Merlin took care to remain unseen as he returned to the castle. He may have just finished his lesson with Bradan, but he was already mentally preparing what he would teach the boy the following night. Who knew teaching could be so rewarding? He'd thought the meditation would be rather dull, but watching Bradan's grow was worth it, although he was still exhausted. And _hungry_.

Quietly pushing the door to his and Gaius' chambers open, Merlin's stomach growled and he smiled as he saw the covered plate waiting for him, only to come to a stop when he caught sight of Gaius, very much awake and displeased, judging by his stern expression. His mentor was seated at the table, hands folded on top and eyebrow raised in what Merlin knew was his "You're In Trouble And About To Receive A Lecture On Stupidity" face. _Well, there go my hopes for a quiet, peaceful evening,_ Merlin thought with no small amount of trepidation. And the worst of it was, he'd done quite a lot of stupid things recently so he couldn't even be certain what this was about. He just hoped it wasn't about Bradan.

"Good evening, Gaius," he said cheerfully, deciding to play innocent for now. At least, until he could come up with a way out of this conversation.

The eyebrow of doom crept higher. Gaius said nothing.

Merlin squirmed under his flat gaze and cleared his throat. "Is something wrong, Gaius?" he asked pointedly.

"You tell _me_ , Merlin," Gaius spoke at last. "Is there _anything_ you want to tell me?"

Merlin gulped. "…no? I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're not doing anything stupid, are you? Anything I might have specifically told you _not_ to do?"

Explanations and lies flew to his tongue as he instinctively started to deny the accusation but then he straightened. Hadn't he sworn that he would begin to stand up for himself and his people? True, he'd been thinking of standing up to Arthur at the time but he wouldn't allow Gaius to guilt him into abandoning his kin either.

"I'm assuming you know about Bradan, then. Fawn's brother," he clarified at Gaius' questioning look.

The physician appeared surprised at his forthrightness and looked at him thoughtfully, some of his anger fading as he tried to puzzle out Merlin's odd behaviour. "This may surprise you, Merlin, but I do notice when you're sneaking about at night," he said, trying and failing to hide his confusion.

Merlin smiled ruefully. Had Gaius gotten so accustomed to his lies that the mere thought of him being honest befuddled him so much? It made Merlin sad to think of how much he'd changed since coming to Camelot. He had matured, yes, but he'd also become… different. Ruthless. Dishonest, even when he didn't need to be. And he knew that no matter how much he told himself he'd stop, it would be easier said than done. But at least he could try, starting now.

"Well, I know what you're going to say." He looked Gaius in the eye and continued, "There's no point saying it; I'm not going to stop teaching him."

"Don't be foolish, Merlin," his mentor snapped. "You're putting yourself and the boy at risk!"

Merlin raised an eyebrow at that. "Is he more at risk now than when his magic was bursting out of him uncontrollably? Come on, Gaius. You know as well as I do that he would've been caught eventually if no one had helped him."

"I understand," Gaius sighed, softening slightly, although he remained resolutely convinced that this was a bad idea. Merlin doubted he could ever change the man's mind on this particular topic; he'd lived too long in fear. "But you've shown the boy how to calm his magic already, haven't you? He would've been caught by now otherwise. You've done your duty, Merlin, and it's more than enough. This cannot continue."

"But it will," Merlin replied firmly. "I'm not abandoning him, or any other sorcerers for that matter, the way I did Morgana. They look to me for protection and I won't let them down. _That_ is my duty."

"What has gotten into you, Merlin?" Gaius bit out disbelievingly. "You've never done anything _this_ stupid before. You can't throw your life away for that boy!" Merlin went to protest but the old man wasn't done speaking. "You can't throw away _Arthur's_ life for that boy," he added triumphantly, perhaps expecting that argument to convince Merlin as it always had.

But this time, Merlin knew where his loyalties lay. "I won't throw Bradan's life away for Arthur, either." Gaius stared at him, obviously in shock, as he continued sharply, "Have you noticed, Gaius, that you almost never call Bradan by his name? You don't use other sorcerers' names, either. It's almost like you've distanced yourself from them so much to avoid getting hurt that you no longer think of them as _people_. And they are- _my_ people. It may be different for you because you _chose_ to learn magic, Gaius, but I never had a choice, and I can't- _won't_ \- turn my back on magic like you have. I am Emrys, and my highest responsibility is to magic users. I won't abandon them."

By the time he finished speaking, Merlin's chest was heaving and Gaius looked terribly old and sad.

"Oh, Merlin," he murmured in a pained voice and pulled his ward into a hug. "Of course they're people. You- you may be right about me distancing myself from them, but I never thought of how much it must hurt you to see me do so. You must never believe that I think less of you or your kind; I love you too much for that. I'm sorry, my boy. I just wish I could keep you safe."

Merlin pulled away from him gently and placed his hands on his shoulders. "But you can't, Gaius. I'll never be safe, not here and probably not anywhere else, either. But I _can_ be happy; I don't have to feel guilty or ashamed any longer, and I can help _so_ many people. Please, Gaius, let me do what I was meant to be doing all along. Let me be happy."

Gaius' eyes were glassy as he nodded, the fear in them never really fading. Merlin didn't really expect his mentor to stop fearing for him or to suddenly start believing that aiding sorcerers was a wise move, but at least he would no longer oppose him. Of course, Gaius couldn't _really_ stop him, but having his support… it meant more to Merlin than he could ever express.

"I hope you know, Merlin, that despite all my protests, I _am_ proud of you. You truly are worthy of being Emrys."

"Thank you, Gaius," Merlin whispered as he drew the man back into a hug. "I promise you, one day, we will no longer have to live in fear like this. I haven't truly believed that in a long time but now… now I know. I won't hide in the shadows any longer; we _will_ bring magic back."


	9. Gwen Takes A Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, it's been almost three months since I last updated this story and I'm sorry for the long wait. However, I was quite busy with visiting my home country to spend more time with my grandmother following my grandfather's death and wasn't in the right frame of mind to write. It's also my first fic so I'm finding it very difficult to find time to write (specially because my beta reader stopped reading this a few chaptors ago so I'm doing it alone now) and I will probably update quite slowly as I try to find a writing style I'm more comfortable with. I have no intention of abandoning this fic so if a chapter's late- like this one- it's safe to assume I'm probably just struggling with some aspect of the story :D
> 
> This one was particularly hard to write because of Arthur's POV. I like switching between different points of view (except when it's Arthur because he is currently going through A Lot) so let me know if there's any specific character's POV you want to see. Right now, I'm considering one of the knights, other than Gwaine of course, but I'm not sure which so I'm leaving it up to you guys to vote for whoever you want!
> 
> And now without further ado, I give you: chapter nine!

The sun lit up the sea of white petals as they swayed in the breeze, the short stalks of the mountain avens barely visible amidst the grass. Gwen paused for a few moments to admire the picture they made before kneeling to pick the flowers. Before long, she had filled her basket and was making her way back to Camelot. She sighed as she thought of the tension awaiting her there and guiltily wished she could stay away from the castle a bit longer. It was getting ridiculous, really; she still found it hard to believe that _Merlin_ and _Arthur_ were at odds. In all the years she'd known them, the two had been attached at the hip, no matter what they did to each other. The fact that it was Merlin who refused to speak to Arthur made it all the more unbelievable. Since when did _he_ ever get angry? Of course, logically Gwen knew that he must sometimes lose his temper but she couldn't imagine anything short of murder that could make him do that.

As though her thoughts had summoned him, Gwen saw Merlin and one of the knights sitting near the city walls. She shielded her eyes from the sun and squinted slightly. Ah. Gwaine.

That was another change Gwen wasn't sure she was comfortable with. Gwaine and Merlin had always been close, and she knew the knight considered Merlin to be his best friend, but they'd never spent _this_ much time together. She didn't _mind_ them spending time together, except… it felt almost like Merlin was replacing Arthur with Gwaine. No matter what Arthur had done to alienate Merlin, Gwen didn't want him to lose his best friend like this, and her heart ached for him as she watched the two men speak companionably.

As she approached them, Merlin caught sight of her and shouted a cheerful greeting, closely followed by Gwaine. Despite her sadness, she couldn't help but smile at their enthusiasm. Gwaine and Merlin had to be two of the most cheerful and friendly people she'd ever met.

"Good morning," she replied warmly, reaching into her basket to give Merlin some of her flowers without even thinking about it.

"Hey now, how come only Merlin gets flowers?" Gwaine demanded in mock outrage.

Merlin just grinned at him smugly. "It's because she likes me better."

"Shut up, Merlin," Gwen ordered calmly before turning to Gwaine. "It's just habit; Merlin likes flowers almost as much as I do so I always give him some. Here, Gwaine, have one."

The knight accepted his flower happily and lay back on the grass in contentment. Gwen and Merlin shared a look of fond amusement; he was far too easy to please.

"Were you just out here collecting flowers, Gwen?" Merlin inquired as she gathered her skirts and sat on the grass next to him.

"Yes- well, not really," she sighed unhappily. "I just felt that I had to get out of Camelot for a bit."

"Oh. Why's that?" he replied with the air of someone who already knew the answer to their question. He probably did know, Gwen mused, but wanted to hear her thoughts on the matter.

She sighed again and settled herself firmly against Merlin side, smiling when he idly reached for her hair and started playing with it. It was one of Merlin's unconscious habits that she had never mentioned lest he feel embarrassed and stop.

"Things have been so tense lately," she finally answered him once she'd made herself comfortable. "It feels like so long since I've seen any of the townsfolk smile; even the children are doing their best to stay indoors." The tension between Merlin and Arthur went unmentioned, but judging by the look on Merlin's face, he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Gwaine sobered quickly, and Gwen thought his face looked almost strange without its characteristic grin. "Well, it's not like people have much to be happy about with all these arrests, do they?"

"Gwaine!" Merlin hissed, shooting Gwen a worried look. She winced at that. She may be- close to Arthur but that didn't mean that her best friend should be wary of speaking his mind in front of her. And since when did Merlin care if Arthur knew he disapproved of his decisions, anyway? The whole situation just kept getting stranger and stranger the more she thought about it. Gwen realised the two men had still been arguing while she was zoned out.

"Come on, Merlin. Everyone's thinking it," Gwaine was saying irritably. "They're just too scared to stand up to the Princess and tell him to pull his head out of his-"

"Gwaine," Merlin groaned again and looked at Gwen pointedly. She narrowed her eyes at him, growing irritated.

"Well, he _is_ being an idiot so I'm only telling the truth," the knight muttered.

Gwen couldn't disagree with that. She was trying her best to be supportive, especially so soon after Arthur had lost his father, but it was all just too reminiscent of Uther's reign. Her family had suffered too much at Uther's hands for her to be comfortable with this witch hunt.

"It's awful, isn't it? It feels like…" Gwen felt disloyal thinking it but… it was the truth. She had never let herself turn a blind eye to injustice before and she wouldn't start now simply to spare Arthur's feelings. She felt ashamed that she hadn't spoken up until then. Perhaps that was what made Merlin so hesitant to criticise Arthur's decisions in front of her. "It feels like Uther never left. I feel so guilty because this time, I'm probably the only one of the townspeople who's actually _safe_."

"Oh, Gwen," Merlin said, still running his fingers through her hair comfortingly "You shouldn't feel guilty. None of this is your fault. The only person responsible for all of this is Arthur."

"But-" she started, then winced at her automatic defense of Arthur. "Well, yes, he _is_ responsible. But it's only because of Agravaine's advice. I'm sure he only wants what's best for Arthur but this time he's _wrong_. Arresting people and hurting innocents _can't_ be the solution to our problems."

"You try telling _Arthur_ that," Merlin muttered bitterly.

"Wait, is this what you two are fighting about?" Gwen asked, startled.

Merlin's expression shuttered immediately. "Something like that."

Gwaine snorted. "What?" he said defensively when both Merlin and Gwen turned to look at him. "I just think maybe everyone should stop trying to make excuses for him. We both know he did more than just disagree with you, Merlin." Gwen frowned in confusion at that but Merlin refused to look at her, instead simply staring stonily ahead as Gwaine continued angrily. "And I honestly couldn't care less if he's trying to please his uncle, or live up to his father's expectations, or anything, because _he's hurting people_. Have you seen the people in the lower town? The families of everyone he's arrested? Agravaine didn't make him do that- no one did. He's a grown man, for God's sake; he can make his own decisions and I am _sick_ of hearing people blame Agravaine for his decisions!"

There was a long silence following Gwaine's outburst; the only sound was his heavy breathing as his friends stared at him in varying degrees of surprise. Merlin may have been slightly more used to seeing Gwaine's serious side but the knight was usually very slow to anger.

Gwen had had no idea that he felt so strongly about the situation, but his words just intensified the guilt she'd been feeling ever since the search for Emrys had started. He was right, she thought. She _had_ been making excuses for Arthur this whole time. What he was doing was so wrong and yet she hadn't really tried to talk him out of it, instead hoping it would all simply end soon. Why had she done that? She loved Arthur but she'd promised herself long ago that she would never remain silent when he made a mistake. [read all of this dmkdaw]

"Oh God, you're right," she said, feeling sick. "How could we let him do this?"

It showed how well Merlin knew her, that he understood what she was thinking immediately and tilted her face up to meet her eyes intently. "Gwen, you mustn't blame yourself for this. As Gwaine was just saying, Arthur can make his own decisions, and I know that we've never really acted like it but… You _do_ realise it's not your responsibility to make him act like a decent person, right? Neither of us should have to."

Gwen opened and closed her mouth a few times at that. It was true that ever since the three of them had become friends, she and Merlin had sort of acted like Arthur's conscience. When Gaius was about to be burnt at the stake, they'd stopped him, but shouldn't he have known it was wrong all by himself? When Uther had almost burnt _her_ alive, Arthur had argued but not done much else to save her before Merlin and Morgana urged him to find the monster poisoning the water. They were little things, but now that she thought about it, she found herself wondering why she and Merlin had taken it upon themselves to make sure Arthur did what he was s _upposed_ to do all on his own.

"I- I feel very confused," Gwen breathed at last. "The two of you have given me a lot to think about. Things that have never really occurred to me before…"

"Arthur isn't a bad person," Merlin said quietly but firmly. "But we've let him depend on us and blame others for his own mistakes far too many times. He needs to learn to grow and improve by himself."

Gwen nodded unhappily. She hated to think that she'd allowed herself to ignore Arthur's failings just because she loved him. "I know you're right. Just… I can't stand by and let innocent people suffer without trying to do anything about it. I should've brought it up with Arthur long before now."

"Merlin tried to," Gwaine spoke up, ignoring the glare Merlin sent his way. "It didn't work out so well for him, but then again, Arthur would probably listen to _you_. Merlin's the only one he thinks he can get away with treating like garbage."

"Thank you for that, Gwaine. I need to get back to work," Merlin snapped and pulled himself to his feet. He hesitated for a moment, his countenance softening slightly as he saw Gwaine's contrite expression, then said more gently, "I'll see you later tonight."

Gwaine let out a relieved sigh as Merlin walked back toward the city gates. A few moments passed before he and Gwen both stood up as well. "We should probably head back too," he mumbled awkwardly, then looked up at her with another sigh. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm angry at Arthur and this whole awful situation but I shouldn't have spoken to you and Merlin that way. It's not your fault."

"It's alright, Gwaine. You were right," Gwen replied, leaning down to pick up her basket. "I'm glad you said the things you did or I may not have realised how I- how _we_ have all been treating Arthur this whole time. It needed to be said, and you've never been one to shy away from telling the truth, no matter how unpleasant it is."

Gwaine smiled wryly. "I guess not."

"You don't need to apologise to me, Gwaine. I should be _thanking_ you so… thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied then nodded toward Merlin's retreating figure. "Are you going after him then?"

Gwen blinked in surprise; he really was more perceptive than people gave him credit for. "Yes, I still want to speak with him. I need to know what happened between him and Arthur." Gwaine winced. "Is it really that bad?"

"Yes," the knight answered with no hesitation. "And I think it's also been a lot of little things piling up. Arthur's never treated him well."

"I know," Gwen admitted guiltily. "I could always see that but I never said anything because Merlin didn't and I thought, if he didn't mind… I know that's still wrong." She sighed. _I've really made a lot of mistakes when it comes to Arthur's behaviour, haven't I?_ "I need to go catch up with Merlin. I'm glad I spoke to you, Gwaine. Thank you again."

He smiled and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. That was the good thing about being friends with Gwaine, she thought; he treated her just the same as he did any of the other knights. "Just knock some sense into the Princess for me, yeah?"

"I plan to," she assured him in a dark tone before the two of them finally parted ways at the city gate.

As Gwen walked briskly toward the castle and Merlin, she wondered how she would get the most secretive man she knew to tell her exactly what had happened between him and Arthur.

 

* * *

 

"…so Elyan told Leon what the other knights were planning to do," Merlin said brightly. He saw Gwen open her mouth and quickly continued to chatter. "But Percival had already anticipated that he would tattle to get back at them for the prank they played on him last month, so it turned out it was all a trick and Leon was never the target! While he and Elyan were busy trying to-"

"Merlin-"

"-find the trap that was supposed to be hidden in his room, the knights were leaving a little surprise in _Elyan's_ room-"

"Merlin, will you shut up!" Gwen finally exclaimed which effectively cut him off as he turned to stare at her in shock. Since when did _Gwen_ tell people to shut up? Arthur was rubbing off on her.

"Well, that's just rude," Merlin muttered.

She just narrowed her eyes at him. "Ruder than you babbling nonstop for the past five minutes without letting me get a word in?"

"Are you telling me you don't want to hear about this tale?"

"No."

"But the drama! The betrayal, the lies-"

"Merlin," Gwen groaned, "if you don't want to tell me something, you can just say that instead of giving me a headache."

He managed to stay silent for a few moments. Then, "It _is_ a good story, though."

"What happened between you and Arthur, Merlin?" Gwen sighed. "And why are you so determined to keep it from me? Don't think I didn't notice you trying to shut Gwaine up out there when he was criticising Arthur in front of me. Do you really think so little of me that-"

"No! I just don't want to put you into a position where you have to choose between doing the right thing and your loyalty to Arthur." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I know better than anyone how difficult that can be."

Gwen just looked confused. "There is no choice, Merlin. My loyalty to him is the _reason_ I want to tell him that what he's doing is wrong. You _do_ know that you can disagree with Arthur without betraying him, right?"

"That's not how _he_ sees it, apparently," Merlin said with a humourless laugh, before finally sighing and giving in. It was Gwen, after all; she was always fair. She would always do the right thing, regardless of her own feelings. "I don't want to spend too much time thinking about it all again so… The gist of it is that I tried to convince Arthur to put a stop to the searches and let Emrys go, he disagreed, I criticised his father, and he reminded of my place as a servant and threatened me for speaking my mind."

The room was ominously silent for a few moments before Gwen's glacial voice rang out, "He told you _what_?"

"I think you heard the first time I said it," Merlin replied wryly. "Honestly, I'm tired of thinking about it all. The king clearly doesn't want to properly apologise to his _manservant_ , and I have bigger things to worry about. I didn't expect this but… I'm the happiest I've ever been right now."

" _Happiest_ \- why?" his friend asked disbelievingly.

"Let's just say I've found my calling."

Gwen eyed him at that cryptic response. "Right… Well, I'm glad but that doesn't mean I'm going to let this go. Don't worry, I won't involve you; I can see you want nothing to do with this and I don't blame you. I _am_ going to have a talk with Arthur, though."

"You don't have to do that on my behalf."

"Yes, I do," she countered. "You deserve better, Merlin, you always have. And it's not just on your behalf. I'm a servant too, remember? We _all_ deserve better."

"I know. I once thought Arthur knew that too," Merlin said. As much as he didn't really care about what Arthur had said to him, he was simply disappointed. He'd thought Arthur was better than that, that he wasn't one of the nobles who thought themselves superior to everyone else.

"He does, Merlin. He just needs to be reminded of it," insisted Gwen, although the troubled look on her face betrayed her unease.

Merlin just nodded, keeping his doubts to himself. Even if Arthur didn't look down on servants in general, he certainly looked down on _Merlin_ , and that was something he could no longer stomach. At the moment, though, Merlin had something else on his mind besides Arthur. The way Gwen so easily accepted his side of the story despite her love for Arthur made him question his decision to keep his magic a secret from her. He knew Gaius would probably say he was being an idiot but Gwaine had shown him that he could trust his friends- or at least some of them- not to turn on him. And Gwen had been his very first friend. Really, just telling her about his fight with Arthur felt good, like a weight had been lifted off his chest. He couldn't bring himself to reveal himself to her just yet, but it was something to think about.

"You're welcome to try to get through to him," he finally said mildly. "You'll probably have better luck than me."

It would hurt, undoubtedly, if Arthur chose to listen to her where he had brushed off Merlin's advice, but it would be worth it to keep his people safe. Gwen obviously could not believe that her beloved would hurt her as he had hurt Merlin, and Merlin just prayed that she would not be disappointed.

 

* * *

 

"Yes! I did it!"

Merlin winced at Bradan's triumphant- and very loud- shriek, still smiling with pride nonetheless.

"Well done," he praised warmly as the boy finally stopped bouncing with glee and pointing at the lit candle before him.

"I lit it with my _mind_ ," he exclaimed. "I'm a proper sorcerer now! Emrys who?"

Merlin snorted. "I wouldn't go that far just yet."

"Oh, shush; let him enjoy it," Fawn chided and ruffled her brother's hair gently. "Good job, Bradan."

He really _had_ done well. According to a reluctantly supportive Gaius, it was supposed to take an average sorcerer longer than four weeks to successfully access their magic- in the absence of powerful emotions. That Bradan had achieved it so quickly boded well for his future control and power, or so Merlin thought; he wasn't exactly an expert yet despite spending most of his free time studying and searching for new things to teach his student. Bradan's performance showed how much effort Merlin was putting into his teaching, and Fawn had started taking every opportunity to thank him repeatedly, much to both his and Bradan's embarrassment.

Bradan was rapidly becoming more proficient at controlling his magic, and Merlin thought that he could soon begin to teach him proper spells. His own knowledge and control had improved significantly since he'd begun teaching the boy, who spent every lesson soaking up every word Merlin said with wide, admiring eyes. It had been uncomfortable at first but Merlin soon found that he liked it. There were too few instances in his life where he felt powerful anymore. Of course, he didn't just want to teach Bradan to feel powerful; after being constantly disrespected for so long, it did feel good to be treated like someone worthy of respect and even admiration, but Merlin genuinely cared for Bradan. Although he could do without some of the teenager's antics and pranks.

He'd already been subjected to three separate pranks in the weeks since he'd started teaching Bradan, the most memorable of which involved him actually being kidnapped from his rooms in his sleep- courtesy of a mild sleeping draft- and left undressed in the castle courtyard overnight. That day had almost broken his resolve to completely ignore his king until he learned to not be a prat; the urge to explain was too strong. Of course, that incident had brought Bradan's pranks to Gwaine's attention and apparently 'inspired' him, so Merlin hadn't been able to let his guard down since.

The pranks were the reason Merlin didn't believe it at first; it seemed all too likely that Bradan (and perhaps Gwaine was in on it as well) had decided to trick him again. Fawn had needed to intervene in order to convince him that, yes, there were several other sorcerers peacefully living in Camelot with their families, and Bradan had already managed to befriend them. Her brother had chimed in at that point to earnestly assure Merlin that he was keeping an eye out for any others, and did Merlin want to meet his new friends? After a few minutes, he'd finally managed to stutter that he would consider it.

He still hadn't recovered from the shock of realising that there were quite that many sorcerers in Camelot. Although, of course, three others besides himself- as far as he knew- wouldn't be much in any other country. Fawn had teased him relentlessly for spending quite a few minutes gaping in shock but given the fact that, until a few weeks ago, he had believed himself the only sorcerer in Camelot, he thought his reaction was justified. Merlin had spent a few days deeply in thought and eventually decided to accept Bradan's offer to introduce him to their other kin. He was afraid, and making contact with sorcerers was much harder when he didn't already know and trust them as he did Bradan, but he _had_ resolved to be more involved with his people.

That was why, once Bradan and Fawn calmed down a bit and finally put out the candle, Merlin cleared his throat nervously to get their attention.

"I've been thinking," he began. "Do you remember the sorcerers you told me about?"

Fawn snorted, and Merlin realised what a stupid question that was but thankfully, Bradan was kinder than his sister and merely said excitedly, "Yes! Have you decided to meet them after all?"

Merlin took a deep breath. _This is what I'm meant to do._ "Yes," he replied. "Yes, I have."

As Bradan launched into a detailed description of each of his new friends, Merlin suddenly felt certain that this decision was somehow more important than he'd thought.

Somehow, he _knew_... things would change.

 

* * *

 

Three weeks.

It had been _three weeks_ since Arthur had exchanged more words with Merlin than was absolutely necessary for them to perform their jobs. Three weeks since he'd last felt happy and comfortable in his own castle, and Arthur's sadness had quickly turned into anger. What right did Merlin have to turn his back on him after everything he'd done for him? He was a servant, yet Arthur gave him so much freedom that many nobles- his uncle included- looked down on him for it. He had even left Camelot for Merlin's sake when his village was attacked, against his father's orders. The two of them had fought and bled together for years, so for Merlin to simply abandon him over a ridiculous argument so soon after Morgana's betrayal… it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

The only consolation had been that he at least still had his uncle and Guinevere. Until that morning.

Arthur had walked out of his morning meetings in a black mood (which he refused to associate with Merlin, or his infuriating silence and competence in all his duties) and headed back to his chambers, only to find Guinevere waiting for him there. She was rearranging the papers on his desk, incapable of sitting idle as usual. With her hair breaking free from its braid to frame her face and the sunlight streaming in through the window to light up her figure… she was _radiant_. Just like that, Arthur suddenly found it hard to recall what it was exactly that he was so angry about a few minutes ago.

"Good morning, Guinevere," he greeted softly, reaching out to put an arm around her waist. Loosely, though; he always wanted her to have the choice to pull away.

She smiled at him- _God, she is beautiful_ \- and shifted closer. "Good morning, Arthur. I hope you don't mind that I cleaned your desk up a bit."

"Not at all," he assured her. He wished he didn't have to. "Thank you, Guinevere."

For a few minutes they just stood there, basking in each other's presence. The two of them were always so busy, they rarely got the chance to just spend time together like this. Of course, Arthur knew he should be more grateful; a few years ago, they would not have been able to get this far. Now, at least, he could hold her openly and ignore the vicious whispers about their relationship. Now he actually had _hope_ that the two of them could someday marry. It was all nearly perfect.

Arthur tried not to think about what his father would have done.

"Arthur," Guinevere murmured, pulling him out of his thoughts. "I wanted to speak to you about something."

He hummed questioningly, still not very worried. That would change shortly.

"It's about Merlin." That got his attention, and he could feeling himself tensing already. "And about the recent searches- and arrests- your knights have been conducting."

_No_. The blasted arrests again. They had turned Merlin against him; would Guinevere abandon him too? Arthur swallowed, telling himself he was being silly, but judging by the determined look on his beloved's face, she was not going to be deterred from pursuing this topic of conversation.

"What about Merlin, then?" he eventually managed to grit out. Best to put off speaking about the arrests.

Guinevere was silent for some time, simply studying his face in that steely, disconcerting manner of hers. He usually enjoyed it when she did that to the nobles who thought they could get away with disrespecting her; at the moment, Arthur sympathized with all those poor souls.

Once she was satisfied with her unsettling inspection of his face, she finally spoke. "He loves you." _What?_ That had not been what Arthur was expecting. "He has always been loyal- not to Camelot, but to _you_. Throughout everything, every single struggle you've faced in the past few years, Merlin has always been by your side, even when no one else was." Here she paused and looked him straight in the eye with the kind of disappointed expression that he'd hoped to never see directed toward him. "Even when you treated him like he was worthless."

Arthur gaped at her. " _Worthless_? That's- No! I've always allowed him to be himself, even when he's completely disrespectful! Do you think the other nobles haven't noticed and mocked me for it? He acts like someone so far above his station that any other master would have punished him a _ges_ ago."

Unfortunately, Arthur's words only seemed to have angered Guinevere. "Oh, you _allow_ him to be himself. Should all of us worthless servants be grateful to you for your graciousness then? I mean, it's not like we're people or anything; it's completely insolent and disrespectful of us to have opinions or disagree with you. We wouldn't want to force you to remind us of our station, right?"

Arthur flinched. Well, that certainly answered the question of whether Merlin had told her about their fight.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said desperately. "I just meant that I don't treat him like he's worthless- I don't think he is!"

"I know you care about him, Arthur, but you take him for granted. You insult and humiliate him on a daily basis because you think that he couldn't possibly leave you. I've never seen you treat _anyone_ like that, and Merlin deserves better than to have his loyalty rewarded with mistreatment just because he cares too much to turn his back on you."

That hurt. Did she really think that? Did Merlin? Did _Arthur_ think that? He didn't want to believe that he would take advantage of his friend's loyalty to mistreat him without facing the consequences but… Merlin was often the one he took his anger and frustration out on whenever he couldn't hurt the actual targets of his ire. Because Arthur knew that his servant would take it and stick by him regardless.

It was all true, now that Arthur thought about it, but it _hurt_. He'd spent so long taking his best friend for granted and hurting him while Merlin was too- afraid?- to speak up. Why had no one said anything? Why had Merlin _stayed_ when he should've left Arthur years ago?

"I'm sorry," Arthur breathed. "I am, but he won't speak to me. I am trying- I _will_ try to do better by him. And all of you."

Guinevere's eyes softened. Arthur wished it was that easy to earn Merlin's forgiveness but he knew he hadn't really deserved it yet when he made that first half-hearted apology.

"He still cares, you know; he would forgive you if you gave him a reason to do so." Guinevere paused for a moment then continued carefully, "And that is not all I wished to speak to you about."

"Yes," he sighed. "You agree with Merlin about the arrests." It was not a question and Guinevere did not bother trying to deny it.

"Why are you doing this, Arthur? What do you hope to achieve by putting us all through this again?"

"Guinevere, I'm doing my best to protect Camelot. You of all people know how dangerous sorcerers are."

"Me of all people?" she echoed.

_How to put this delicately?_ "Sorcery took your father from you," Arthur finally said and could immediately hear Merlin's voice in his head telling him what a prat he was as Guinevere stiffened.

"Your father took my father from me," she corrected sharply. "Your father's hatred of magic destroyed so many people's lives. Do you really want to follow in his footsteps?"

"I beg your pardon?" Arthur said disbelievingly. "You have no right to speak about him that way. You were not there before the Great Purge. Sorcery was destroying Camelot! My father defended our people from the monsters who-"

"You were not there either," she interjected. "And what terrible crime did my father commit, that Uther felt the need to defend Camelot from him?"

"That was a terrible mistake, Guinevere," Arthur admitted. It was one of the few things he could never forgive his father for.

"A terrible mistake? Is that supposed to make me feel better? My father is _dead_ ," Guinevere cried angrily, tears forming in her eyes. "How can you deny that your father went too far in his war against magic when he killed an innocent man without even giving him a fair trial?"

Arthur closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He and Guinevere had almost never fought, and he _hated_ this. He hated how it felt to see her to hurt and disappointed because of _him_. This needed to stop.

"This isn't about my father," he finally replied. "All I have done is try to find the sorcerer hiding in my city. I am not my father, and I have killed no innocents."

"No, you've just arrested them," she retorted, no less angry now that the conversation had shifted away from her father. "You've just ransacked their homes and disrupted their lives."

That wasn't fair. Arthur had to do whatever was necessary to protect Camelot from its enemies and she _knew_ that. How was he to find the sorcerer without searching the town?

"All of those arrested were found to be in possession of forbidden objects- charms, and books of magic," he started in an attempt to defend his actions but was cut off by his beloved once more.

"No, Arthur, just listen to me. It doesn't matter. For a while there, it felt like Camelot had changed. Like everything was different- _better_. Perhaps it's a difficult for you to notice when you spend most of your time up here in your castle but everyone was so much happier. Your people believed in you, Arthur. They believed that you weren't like your father, that you would never hurt them. And all of this, these arrests, turning people against each other, making them fear for their lives, for their families… You've just let them down." She looked at him earnestly and took his hands in hers. "You're better than this, Arthur; I _know_ you are. You can't continue to let hatred and fear drive you. If you don't put a stop to this, you will turn your people against you. A good king does what _he_ believes is right, not what his father or uncle tell him is."

_How could she say that? He was a terrible friend, and now a terrible king too?_ Arthur couldn't deal with this. Not after everything that had happened in the past month.

"Please leave," he whispered, no longer caring if he appeared weak.

"Arthur, I want to _help_ you-"

"Guinevere, _please leave_ ," he repeated firmly and hated himself for the hurt he was clearly causing her, but he just _couldn't_ deal with this right then. Guinevere only studied his face for a moment before she turned on her heel and marched out of the room, leaving Arthur free to finally collapse on his bed.

He wanted to hit something, or scream, or... he wanted to cry. He was ashamed to admit it even in his own head- his father had scorned such weakness even when Arthur was a child- but he helplessly let out a sob before he managed to choke back his tears. One by one, the people he cared about were turning against him. It didn't seem to matter that he was _trying_ , that he was doing his very best to be a good king; he always ended up disappointing them, just as he had always disappointed his father. Guinevere thought he was a failure of a king. Gwaine could hardly look him in the eyes most days, and the rest of the knights closest to him weren't much better. Even Merlin, his truest friend, had abandoned him.

Arthur stared blankly at his ceiling. He had no one left but his uncle now. He could not afford to let him down too.


	10. Of Doubt And Fractured Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if anyone was still waiting for this, but I'm finally back with a new chapter, introducing some new characters! I want to thank everyone who's been leaving reviews, especially Azraels_Aurora_lights and Verity_Black, who motivated me to get this chapter done! As you may have noticed, it's shorter than usual, because I've decided it's best to post shorter chapters more frequently. The next chapter is halfway done so expect it by next Monday! I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep doing weekly updates but I'm giving it a try. Let me know if you like it better this way or prefer the longer (but much slower) updates!

Sir Leon was not accustomed to feeling uncertain. He was a knight of Camelot; every morning, he woke up, trained his knights, went out on patrols when necessary and obeyed his king's commands. There was little change to be found- despite what people said about the thrill and excitement of a knight's life- and everyone and everything followed a natural order. Leon _liked_ order.

That was why he had found himself so very uncomfortable these past weeks. He was not stupid, certainly; a knight of his rank had to be able to strategise and think on his feet in order to outsmart his enemies. A knight of his rank was not, however, meant to _question_ things. Especially his king's decisions. It was a very strange and unfamiliar experience that he really had no idea how to deal with.

Leon decided that he blamed Merlin for it.

A few years ago, Leon would have never thought to disagree with his king. The one exception had of course been when King Uther had married a troll, but that obviously didn't count because _he married a troll_. That particular incident aside, Leon had always done as his king ordered him to without question; it was what he was trained to do. Then a young peasant boy arrived at Camelot, insulted their prince to his face, stubbornly refused to act like a servant, and changed everything.

Leon didn't think that was an exaggeration at all. The change had been gradual, sneaking up on them all until it was too late to do anything about it. The knight was ashamed to admit that, in the beginning, he had disliked the prince's manservant on principle because of his disrespect toward his betters. Or at least those that Leon had _thought_ were his betters. He didn't think that way anymore, and he had long ago vowed never to tell Merlin or any of the common-born knights that he'd once looked down on them- he shuddered to think what Gwaine would do if he knew- but unlearning everything he'd been taught about blood and nobility from birth had been a long process. A long process that he hadn't been able to share with anyone, because the conservative nobles would have shunned him while the more accepting nobles like Arthur or Sir Kay would have been disappointed in him for his backward thinking, regardless of how difficult it was to truly change one's beliefs so drastically.

Needless to say, it was _hard_. And Leon was privately very proud of his progress.

However, it was one thing to accept that nobles were no better than commoners and another to actually begin questioning his king's decisions. Knowing that unfortunately did nothing to quell his doubts.

And so that left him here, slumped in bed and debating whether he should say anything or remain silent. On one hand, he didn't know how Arthur would react if he tried to discuss the search or Emrys with him but Leon suspected that it would not be pretty. He normally would not need to tiptoe around the king so- Arthur always attempted to be just and open-minded- but he was noticeably in a Very Bad Mood these past few days, the likes of which heralded long, painful training sessions and excessive patrols for the knights. That was probably another thing to blame Merlin for, although Leon had noticed some tension between Arthur and Gwen recently. He tried not to even think about his king's love life, however, lest he lose his head for interfering.

On the other hand, Leon felt it was his responsibility as a senior knight to speak up before the king on behalf of his fellow knights, most of whom were not bold enough to confront Arthur no matter how much they disagreed with his decisions. They rarely ever did, of course, which made it all the more important for Leon to bring their complaints to the king. Not to mention that it was never a good idea to ignore unrest within the ranks of the knights; they were the kingdom's first defense and the king _needed_ them to be on his side. It had not yet reached the point where the knights would question their loyalty to Arthur- and Leon doubted it would _ever_ reach that point- but nevertheless, most of the knights were uncomfortable with his recent decisions.

Leon found it odd that most people assumed that the knights of Camelot all despised magic as much as the late King Uther did. The knights, like everyone else, had lived in Camelot before the Purge and most of the older ones had a rather… relaxed attitude toward sorcery. Of course, the younger knights who were indoctrinated into King Uther's beliefs were more mistrustful of magic, but few truly hated sorcerers as much as their king would have wanted them to. They all had families too and never enjoyed the witch hunts that tore families apart, although they dutifully carried out King Uther's orders; they had no choice. Leon had never personally done it himself, but he knew several knights had been rather- lax with security when arresting people who didn't even _have_ magic. The old king may have thought that owning a few banned books or good luck charms were grounds for execution but most of his knights evidently believed otherwise. Had Leon actually _witnessed_ any of them disobeying their king like that, he would have been duty-bound to report them, so most of his subordinates kept their misdeeds hidden from him, and he was happy to pretend none of it ever happened.

When Arthur became king, the knights, like most people, had privately thought with no small amount of relief that they would never have to live through another witch hunt. After all, King Arthur's mercy and compassion were only outweighed by his love for his people; he would never put them through such horrors again if he could help it. It seemed, however, that they were all mistaken.

The knights were not pleased.

The mass arrests meant that no one would notice if a few people- children, mostly- slipped through the cracks, but there were still too many innocents currently residing in the dungeons because the knights could only save so many when the king _specifically_ ordered them to arrest anyone with even the slightest relation to sorcery, regardless of whether they were actually sorcerers themselves. And to make matters worse, he put his uncle in charge of overseeing the searches, rather than one of the knights. The man was keeping a close eye on them and he let them get away with very little, which led to Leon wondering if he should speak to the King on behalf of his outraged knights. And the outraged townsfolk- everyone but the most fanatical opponents of magic, really, which was almost everyone in Camelot.

Not that the people of Camelot were particularly _friendly_ towards sorcerers, but most simply didn't care one way or another so long as their lives were not affected. They certainly hated witch hunts far more than they did sorcerers. It was not _magic_ that trashed their homes and stole away their loved ones on the slightest suspicion, after all. There, Leon saw Lord Agravaine's influence. Were it not for his- advice, Arthur would have never arrested any of his people based on hearsay and entirely without evidence. There was no doubt that Lord Agravaine meant well, but being one of the late King Uther's contemporaries clearly meant that he was just as irrational when it came to magic.

Leon would never say that out loud, though, and especially not to the king. He liked having his head on his shoulders, thank you very much.

Oh well, at least he could always count on Sir Gwaine to bluntly inform Arthur of what everyone else was thinking but could not say out of respect. But not fear, never fear; Arthur did not rule that way. Or at least he hadn't until very recently.

Leon sighed. No matter how long and hard he thought about it, he could not seem to come to a decision. He could ignore the problem and show his support for Arthur regardless of public opinion. Or he could confront Arthur and make his position known, thus risking his friendship with the king. These doubts had been plaguing him for weeks, and he could hardly sleep without thinking about it all. He knew he would have to choose between his King and his country eventually but he wanted to put it off just a little bit longer. Until then, he would continue to suffer from sleep deprivation and think about his choices.

_Arthur or Camelot_ , he thought to himself. _Arthur or Camelot?_

 

* * *

 

Merlin's throat was dry. He nervously wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers, foot tapping rapidly as he just barely managed to stop himself from getting up to pace. He could see Fawn giving him amused looks (mocking, really, but it didn't make him feel better to think about that so he simply wouldn't) but he ignored her. It wasn't like he could just _stop_ feeling nervous. Not with this being the first meeting he'd have with other sorcerers since he'd decided to embrace his title and powers; Bradan didn't really count as they'd known each other for years before, and he was an easily pleased fifteen year old. Making a good impression on fully grown adults who might judge him for not doing anything to help their kind would be far more difficult. What if they hated him? What if they thought he should be doing _more_ to change Arthur's mind about magic? What if they thought he was too young to be respected? Merlin looked down at himself. Even _he_ didn't think he looked like an all-powerful sorcerer.

Merlin reflected that riding out of Camelot to fight a dragon had somehow seemed less terrifying than this. He heard a loud sigh and glanced up to see Fawn looking at him pityingly.

"Merlin," she said, placing a firm hand on his bouncing knee, "there's nothing to be afraid of. They're perfectly friendly folk."

"But what if they hate me?" Merlin asked, quite distressed and not appreciating the way Fawn was sniggering at him. She wasn't even trying to hide it!

"They won't. You're the great and powerful Emrys, after all," she replied dryly. "All sorcerers love you."

"Not really; I've gotten a few killed," he mumbled. "They'll probably think I'm a failure. I haven't done anything for our people, really. I'm not even-"

"Merlin, these people _live_ here," Fawn interjected. "They have known you, or at least known _of_ you, for years so they know you're an idiot. Do you really think they expect much of you?" Merlin shot her an affronted glare and was about to make a no doubt scathing retort when she added with a smirk, "Hell, they've probably thrown rotten vegetables at you at some point."

"That makes it worse," Merlin said plaintively. "You do realise that's worse, right?"

She rolled her eyes for what must have been the hundredth time that day. "The point is that they don't expect you to be some wise, awe inspiring warlock; they're fully aware that you're an idiot at least half the time."

"Thank you, Fawn," Merlin muttered sullenly and got only a bright smile in reply.

The two of them then sat in silence until Bradan's new friends arrived. The three sorcerers didn't arrive together; it was the man named Aiden who came first. He was a portly older man with thin brown hair and a rosy complexion. His patched shirt and badly frayed breeches were even shabbier than the clothes worn by the other commoners in the lower town, and his calloused palms spoke to a lifetime of hard work in the city's markets.

Overall, Merlin thought, Aiden looked far too ordinary to be a law-breaking magic user. But then again, didn't Merlin always complain about people thinking he was harmless simply because of the way he looked?

"Evening, Fawn, Merlin," the man said cheerfully, taking a seat at the table before they could return his greeting.

"Good evening, Aiden. No need to wait for an invitation to sit down or anything!" Fawn said tartly.

Aiden simply grinned, unfazed by her attitude. "Course not." He turned to Merlin. "So you're that magic druid king Bradan was telling us about, then?"

Merlin let out an embarrassed squeak as Fawn began snickering next to him. "That's- No! I'm not a _magic druid king_. I'm just Merlin- that is, Emrys. Well, Merlin really but the druids call me Emrys instead. It's just a title."

Aiden nodded wisely. "Right, so you _are_ the druid king then. Got it."

"Definitely," Fawn chirped as her long-suffering friend groaned. "They even bow to him, you know."

"You're awful," Merlin whined. He _really_ hoped Bradan hadn't told anyone else about all of the "druid king" nonsense Fawn filled his head with. Oh, who was he kidding? The boy had probably told everyone he knew who had magic.

Before Fawn could reply, the door opened once more, and their little gathering was finally made complete as Bradan walked in proudly, leading two middle-aged women by the hand and immediately pointing Merlin out to them. "That's Emrys!"

Merlin pasted on a pained smile as the two witches studied him. He was surprised to find that he recognised one of them. Mavis was a seamstress who provided clothing for some of the lesser noble families residing in Camelot; her son was a butcher, Merlin recalled, and he wondered why the young man wasn't here too. Children didn't always inherit their parents' gifts, of course, but most sorcerers tended to teach their families at least _some_ magic.

Merlin shrugged the thought off and shifted his gaze to the second witch- whom Bradan excitedly introduced as "Brienne. They're _twins_!"- as she too stared at him with a rather unimpressed look on her thin face. While she and her sister looked almost identical, with their dark hair and stormy grey eyes, their clothing could not have been more different. They were both clearly commoners but it was immediately apparent that Brienne was not as well off as her twin, probably because she did not cater to the nobles and rich merchants Mavis dealt with.

Brienne was the one to finally interrupt Bradan's unnecessarily long introductions. "Emrys, eh?" she drawled.

Merlin coloured. He knew exactly what he looked like, thank you very much, and he did not think it was the woman's place to judge him.

"Don't mind my sister's rudeness, Merlin," Mavis said earnestly before he could come up with a suitable reply. "She's had no manners ever since we were children." She ignored the kick Brienne aimed at her.

"It's alright. I'm used to people being surprised that _I'm_ Emrys," Merlin replied.

"Well, I must admit you don't really look the part." Merlin glared at Mavis. _I thought she was the nice one._ "No offence," she added belatedly.

"You don't look much like a witch either, if we're being frank," Fawn retorted, as her brother looked between all of them with wide eyes. It was Aiden who broke the tension, however.

"And a good thing that is for all of us, eh?" he said, then beckoned Bradan and the two witches over. "Come sit, then; make yourself at home. Fawn here has assured me that there's no need to wait on her for permission."

Fawn just shook her head with a sigh as they unquestioningly moved to obey. A few minutes later, all six of them were settled on various surfaces in Fawn and Bradan's home (an attempt to sit on the dining table ended with Bradan being banished to sit on the ground) with warm bowls of soup before them. Merlin slurped his portion loudly, fully aware of the twins' disgusted gazes on him. Not that he was doing it on purpose to get back at them for their offensive comments. Obviously not. He wasn't that petty.

Brienne cleared her throat. "So," she began forcefully, eyes still fixed on Merlin and his soup, "if you're meant to free us magical folk from the Pendragons, why are you serving the king?"

"Brienne, you can't expect him to free _anyone_ yet; he's barely out of his teens!" Aiden exclaimed before Merlin could reply.

"I know that! I didn't mean to imply that he should be saving us right now," snapped Brienne. Next to her, Mavis was already rubbing her forehead and staring at the ceiling in exasperation. "But I want to know why he's been cozying up to King Arthur for the past few years." She turned back to face Merlin with narrowed eyes. "Do you have some plan to get rid of him?"

Merlin jerked back. "No, of course not!" The three sorcerers stared at him with varying degrees of surprise. "Do you all really think that I want to betray Arthur?" he asked incredulously.

"I suppose you wouldn't," Aiden said after a short pause. "I'd heard that the two of you were very close, although I did wonder if that was some deception on your part."

"I can see why you were close to him," Mavis said quietly, cutting off her prickly sister. "We always thought he was a better man and king than his father, especially when he welcomed the druids back to Camelot. Surely things are different now, though? Now that he's started hunting our people once more?"

She wasn't wrong, and none of them really knew Arthur like he did so it wouldn't mean anything to them if he told them what a good man he was. Hell, Merlin _knew_ that Arthur was good, and he was still angry.

"I never expected Arthur to do anything like this, and the fact that he's doing it because of his uncle doesn't make it any better," he sighed. Mavis cocked her head thoughtfully at the mention of Agravaine but did not interrupt. "He didn't even listen when I tried to talk him out of this course of action. It's been… disappointing. Nevertheless, I have no intentions of betraying Arthur. We may all be angry with him but he is still my friend and my king."

"Your friend who slaughters our people," Mavis muttered. Surprisingly, it was Brienne who jumped to his defense.

"You mean he _arrests_ our people. He hasn't slaughtered anyone just yet," she retorted snidely before nodding to Merlin. "Nothing wrong with loyalty. He's your friend and you won't turn on him; I respect that, even if I can't stand the man, personally."

"Oh," Merlin said dumbly. He hadn't expected Brienne to side with him. "Uh, thank you."

They returned to peacefully drinking their soup, until Bradan helpfully added, "Anyway, King Arthur is the One and Future King, so we're supposed to like him too!"

"King Arthur is the what, now?" Aiden asked in confusion, at the same time that Brienne cried, "That's absolutely ridiculous!"

Mavis chose not to comment on Bradan's revelation, and simply answered Aiden instead. "The Once and Future King is another figure of prophecy that often appears alongside Emrys in druidic legend," she explained. "It is said that with Emrys' guidance, this King will return magic to Camelot and unite all the lands of Albion."

"Which is why he obviously _cannot_ be a Pendragon," Brienne said firmly. "After everything they've done-"

Merlin interrupted her. "Arthur _is_ the Once and Future King."

"But… he _can't_ be," Brienne protested. "How can you be sure?"

"Brienne, I'm certain that if anyone knows, it's Emrys," her sister said calmly.

"I, for one, would love to see the lad destroy everything his father worked so hard to build," Aiden laughed. "Can you imagine it, Uther's son bringing magic back? The old man would roll in his grave!"

"It's a nice thought," Brienne acknowledged with a smirk, "but I just don't see it happening. That family's a curse on this land. Wasn't enough to have Uther butchering our kin; his blasted daughter just had to join in the fun, didn't she, and say she's killing in our name. And now we've got the king looking to follow in his father's footsteps. Once and Future King or not, I say we'd be better off with the Pendragons dead."

Merlin shook his head sadly. He couldn't fault her for feeling that way. Arthur had destroyed any goodwill the people had for him due to the druids' return with his little witch hunt.

"He won't follow in Uther's footsteps," Merlin said wearily. "Arthur has never been as hateful and vicious as his father and sister. I know that doesn't mean much when people are being torn from their families and tossed in the dungeons without trial, but it gives me some comfort to know that, no matter how many people he arrests, Arthur will not allow any innocents to be killed."

Fawn nodded in agreement. "It's true; idiotic as the King may sometimes be, I really wouldn't say he's _evil_."

"That's all very well, but it doesn't change the fact that sorcerers- and anyone even slightly suspicious- are being arrested every day," Mavis said matter-of-factly.

"Let's hope the King listens to reason eventually, eh Merlin?" Aiden sighed.

"Regardless of what Arthur does," Merlin said in a firm voice, "our people _will_ be freed. I hope that Arthur will help us, but with or without him, we _will_ bring magic back. It's my duty, and nothing will get in the way of that, not even my friendship with him."

Merlin blushed as he noticed the others staring at him in surprise for his passionate outburst. Bradan was beaming, and the other three sorcerers looked on him with a bit more respect, while Fawn just rolled her eyes, muttering something about grand pronouncements and obnoxious warlocks. Merlin hissed at her to shut up.

"Well, it's certainly a relief to hear that we needn't rely on Arthur Pendragon to free us," Mavis finally said with a smile.

"Indeed," her twin snorted. "Although, I'm not so sure about it being your duty. You're young yet, lad, and we've all got a responsibility to fight for our people. Hardly fair to expect you to take it all on yourself while the rest of us sit around twiddling our thumbs."

"Quite right, Brienne, quite right," Aiden chuckled, placing his empty bowl back on the dining table and patting his rotund belly in satisfaction. "Good to know we've got the magic druid king on our side, though."

"The magic druid king?" Mavis enquired curiously, as Brienne and Fawn both turned to smirk at Merlin.

Merlin glared up at the ceiling and groaned. Sometimes, he really hated his friends.


	11. In Which A Dumb Jock Attempts Introspection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back with another chapter when she said she would be? Me! I'll be the first to admit that I kinda doubted that I'd be able to finish it in one week, but these short chapters are much easier to write! I'm not sure I'm all that pleased with how this one turned out but maybe I'm just too used to writing lengthy, plot heavy chapters. This is a bit of a turning point for Arthur and the knights so I hope you enjoy it! Writing Leon's pov has been surprisingly a lot of fun so far so I'm thinking about making him a major character just so I can write his pov more lol; let me know what you think!

Leon had finally decided to stop dithering. Putting off this conversation would simply make things worse as the knights and townspeople got progressively angrier. With that in mind, he raised his hand and knocked firmly on the door to the king's chambers. A few moments later, he heard Arthur call out that he should enter, followed by Merlin evidently ignoring that and pulling the door open himself.

"Oh, good morning, Leon!" the servant said, face lighting up with a smile when he saw him. And as usual, he neglected to use Leon's appropriate title because he really didn't seem to care at all for social norms. That had once irritated Leon, back when he'd been unenlightened, but now he simply found Merlin's cheerful disregard for propriety oddly charming.

"Sir Leon," the king greeted more sedately, shooting his servant a pointed look which he chose to ignore. Leon hid a smile at their antics even when they weren't speaking to each other; _this_ was why he wasn't as worried about their friendship as everyone else seemed to be. Eventually, Arthur would give in and apologise for whatever he'd done to anger Merlin, and they would be back to being best friends. Leon firmly believed that this was the only possible outcome.

"Good morning, Sire, Merlin," he replied formally, for all that it wasn't exactly formal for him to reply to a servant. He turned his attention to the king and approached him at his desk nervously. At least Arthur seemed to be in not too terrible a mood today, all things considered. "There is a matter I wish to discuss with you, Sire."

"Of course, Sir Leon," Arthur said, gesturing for him to take a seat. He did so, his nervousness increasing tenfold once he was seated.

"Thank you, Sire." Well, there was nothing for it now. It wasn't like he could back out after he'd already requested to speak to Arthur. "There has been some… unrest recently among the knights regarding the search for Emrys-"

Arthur's expression darkened, as Merlin simultaneously let out an awkward cough. "Ah, I see."

Leon gulped. That was not a good sign. "…yes, Sire. The townsfolk are not pleased, either."

"So I've been told," the king replied coolly, not once looking in Merlin's direction. "And what is your view on the matter, Sir Leon?"

Leon really, _really_ did not want to be having this conversation any longer. Perhaps sensing his hesitance, Arthur added in a warmer tone, "You may speak freely, Leon. You know I value your counsel."

"Thank you, Sire," he repeated and did his best to ignore Merlin's long-suffering expression at what he and Gwaine would both call "boot licking" and what everyone else- _normal_ _people_ \- would call respect. "While I see the need to find the sorcerer, most of the knights, myself included, do not feel that it is right to arrest those in the lower town who do not actively practice magic, my Lord. Most of those currently being held in the dungeons are guilty of no crime other than owning harmless charms or forbidden books."

The king raised a brow at that. "And is owning enchanted objects not a crime in Camelot, Sir Leon?"

"It is, Sire," Leon acknowledged, then paused to gather his thoughts. He had thought carefully before arriving about how best to persuade Arthur into not turning his own people against him. "There must be a punishment, certainly, for breaking the law. However, I do not believe that imprisonment and possible execution are appropriate for something so trivial."

"Nothing about sorcery is trivial," Arthur replied sharply, at which point Merlin immediately left the room with a disgusted huff. That was- odd. But Leon could think about it later, he decided, seeing that the look of displeasure on his king's face had deepened at Merlin's exit. "It is the greatest danger to Camelot, and I cannot allow it to corrupt my citizens. I will protect my people from sorcery, even if I must draw their ire to do it."

_His people, yes_ , Leon thought triumphantly. _Of course that's the key._

"I would expect no less, my Lord," he said smoothly, with the skill of one who had spent long years placating nobles more powerful than himself. "But the prisoners in the dungeons are not sorcerers. They _are_ your people; innocents, ones who were perhaps foolish enough to keep hidden a few charms to ease their lives or bring them good fortune, but innocents nonetheless." Finally, Arthur seemed to at least be listening. "I cannot believe that they meant any harm to Camelot or held any malicious intentions toward their fellow citizens. The townspeople certainly seem to be furious on their behalf, underneath all the fear."

"Fear," Arthur sighed unhappily. "This was never how I wanted to rule my kingdom."

"I know, Sire. But how can the people be anything _but_ fearful? All they see is their families and kin being taken away, simply for being too reluctant to part with the few little luxuries magic once afforded them. They may have been too used to having a good harvest or unfailing good health, and they must be punished lest they think they are above the law, but such drastic measures are unnecessary, especially when those that end up in the dungeons are far too often completely innocent. Fear and panic have people turning against each other and pointing fingers at their own neighbours just to avoid suspicion themselves."

"I feared as much," the king said, "but what other way is there to root out those that may truly be assisting sorcerers? What do you suggest, Sir Leon?"

"Not a witch hunt, certainly," Leon replied immediately. "Wrecking homes and arresting family members will not endear us to the people; it brings to mind the Purge too much. Perhaps a fine, my Lord, for those found to be in possession of forbidden artifacts?"

Arthur hummed noncommittally. "And what of Emrys?"

Leon hesitated. This was the subject Arthur was most stubborn about, thanks to Agravaine's influence. "I do not believe he is in the city at all, Sire. It makes no sense, strategically, for him to remain any longer, and if our searches have been thorough enough to catch all those minor offences, then surely we would have caught the sorcerer by now if he were still within the city. There is only one easy way for him to him to be found now, aside from searching the entire kingdom."

It took a few moments for Arthur to comprehend his meaning, but he immediately shook his head. "I will not condone any violence toward the druids, Sir Leon," he reminded his knight sternly, although at least he longer seemed as displeased as he had been, his countenance softening the longer they spoke.

"That was not what I meant to suggest, Sire. I hold a deep respect for the druid people; they saved my life after all. No, I was suggesting that it might be best to approach the druids- perhaps through their ambassador?- and subtly attempt to gain more information on Emrys. They seem to know him very well."

"The deception does not sit right with me," the king objected quietly. "They are my people, now."

"I know, my Lord. But the sorcerer must be found, and this seems to me the only viable alternative that does not involve any suffering for the people of Camelot."

Arthur was silent for a time, his expression giving nothing away of his thoughts. He was a skilled politician, for all that people tended to forget that in light of his combat prowess. "You've given me much to think about, Sir Leon," he said at last, gaze direct. "I will consider your suggestions, but regardless of what I decide, know that I am grateful for your honesty, and your responsibility in bringing the concerns of the people to my attention."

Leon nodded and rose from his seat; he knew a dismissal when he heard one. With a polite farewell and a bow to his king, he turned around and left the room. There was nothing now to do but wait and hope that Arthur really did listen.

 

* * *

 

It was Leon now too.

Arthur had been in a state of constant confusion ever since Guinevere had fought with him. He couldn't understand why both she and Merlin were so incapable of seeing that he had to do what was necessary to protect Camelot, why they were so adamant that his uncle was _wrong_ and that they knew better than him and Agravaine. Eventually, he'd put it down to the two of them being servants; unlike most nobles, he did not actually consider himself any better than commoners, but he _did_ think that perhaps Guinevere and Merlin could not understand the duties and responsibilities he had to bear. They had been brought up very differently, after all; just as he was clueless about most of the struggles commoners faced- staying at Merlin's home in Ealdor had been an unpleasant wakeup call- servants could not be expected to comprehend the difficult decisions a king sometimes had to make. Or so he'd convinced himself. Now, however, even steadfast Leon, always unquestioningly loyal, was objecting to his decisions. It was not that he trusted Sir Leon any more than he did his other friends, but he had known the knight for many more years than he had Guinevere and Merlin, and he knew Leon was aware of how dangerous magic was. For him to so disapprove of Arthur's actions, there had to be a good reason, and it was _not_ that he secretly sympathised with the sorcerers as Merlin possibly did- the king preferred not to think about that.

So who was he supposed to listen to? Merlin, his closest and most loyal friend? Or Agravaine, his uncle, the only family he had left?

Arthur had always believed he had good instincts. They had served him well both in battle and out of it, and Guinevere often told him that he should follow his heart. And he generally tended to do what Guinevere told him to. It wasn't even because he loved her; she was just the wisest person he knew.

Now, however, all his stupid heart was telling him was that he needed to trust both his uncle and Merlin. It was impossible to come to a decision or take sides when they were both so dear to him. The thought of either man leading him astray was incomprehensible, yet clearly, one of them had to be wrong. Arthur put no stock in their accusations of treachery, but considering the fact that they were giving him contradicting advice, he needed to know which of them he could trust to provide sound counsel.

Arthur didn't prefer to use many of his father's lessons these days. Much as he had loved the man, he knew Uther could often be cold, harsh and uncaring, particularly toward those members of their society that he considered beneath him. Some of his father's lessons, though, would serve him well in this situation, he thought. Uther's views on commoners aside, if he considered Merlin and Agravaine two noble advisors, his father would have had him push aside his emotions and consider the consequences that had resulted from each man's advice. Arthur was too close to the two men to be able to trust his heart, and he could no longer stand to remain in this state of uncertainty. Not if it meant he was failing his people in some way. Arthur breathed deeply and settled his mind. He would start with Merlin, he decided; he'd been by his side for much longer, after all.

Merlin was not someone he would initially have considered an advisor but the servant had soon proven his strange, unexpected wisdom. Starting with the time Merlin had advised him (or tried to anyway) not to fight Valiant, Arthur made his way through his memories of his friend. There was the time Merlin had told him about the poison in his drink (and then proceeded to _drink it_ , the loyal idiot), and the incident where he'd pleaded with Arthur not to kill the unicorn; he'd been right about that too. Cedric had turned out to actually be Cornelius Sigan, just as Merlin had tried to tell him, and not listening to him about the Lady Catrina being a troll had also proven to be a horrifying and embarrassing mistake. He'd warned him about Morgause, as well, and stopped Arthur from killing his father… The more Arthur thought about it, he realised that Merlin's advice had always proven to be sound. Cornelius Sigan, Lady Catrina, Morgause… and now Agravaine.

But that was different, wasn't it? His uncle wasn't like the others; he was no stranger. Arthur _knew_ him. The very thought was ridiculous and Arthur wasted no time shaking it off. He had to focus on his task.

Then, it was Agravaine's turn. It was hard to remain objective when it came to his uncle, but he had to do it. Not just for his people, but for his own sake too. Arthur didn't think he could stand any more uncertainty about the people closest to him.

Agravaine had come to court as soon as he'd realised that Uther was- not well, and he'd remained by Arthur's side ever since. For that, Arthur was so grateful that he didn't know how he could ever repay the man. That had been a dark and lonely time, with his father broken and the people of Camelot looking to him for leadership in the aftermath of Morgana's treachery. He'd prepared for the role his entire life but he'd always thought his friend- _sister_ \- would be by his side when the time came for him to rule. Her betrayal had been like an open wound- it still _was_ \- but Agravaine had helped heal some of that hurt. He'd stuck by Arthur, guided him, and shown him that he was not completely alone.

On the other hand, Arthur thought reluctantly, it was Agravaine who had given the order to close the city to refugees when Arthur left to fight the Dorocha. How many of his people would have died had Guinevere not spoken out against the decision? It was Agravaine who'd urged Arthur to kill Carleon, a decision that had spelled disaster for Camelot. Of course, it was as much Arthur's fault as it was his uncle's, he did not deny that; he should have listened to Merlin, to his own heart, rather than trying to gain his dead father's approval. However, the point remained; in that instance, at least, Agravaine's advice had been terribly, horrifically _wrong_. His uncle had also been gravely mistaken about Gaius, and Arthur still felt the guilt of doubting one of his oldest friends. Not to mention all the times he'd criticised Arthur's relationship with Guinevere, simply because of her status. Arthur _knew_ the man to be wrong about that because there was no one more worthy, and wise, and kind…

Arthur determinedly shook off all thoughts of Guinevere; he knew he would not be able to think of anything else otherwise.

It was done; he'd followed his father's teachings to the letter, and there was but one clear conclusion. As much as it pained him to admit it, his uncle, while well-intentioned, was often mistaken. Merlin, however, had yet to lead him astray. That made everything that had happened in the past month between them even worse, Arthur realised guiltily. His best friend had respected and trusted him enough to tell him he was wrong, and Arthur had broken that trust so completely that he wondered if he would ever be forgiven. It was a painful thought; he could scarcely comprehend that Merlin might no longer be a part of his life, that this tension between them might be permanent, but he would accept it. Whatever Merlin thought he deserved, he would accept it and treat the man with the respect he had deserved all along.

He just hoped his friend would continue to help him make the right decisions because, if there was one thing that he'd learned from all of this, it was that he was utterly lost without Merlin's advice.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: sirlancesalot


End file.
